


Of This, Our Time

by haveahiddles (redvelvetrose), SincereJester



Category: Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redvelvetrose/pseuds/haveahiddles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincereJester/pseuds/SincereJester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between SDCC 2013 and Thor 2 promos, Tom takes a mini-break in Chicago and meets Jennifer, a fan that gives him a chance to enjoy his time off like a normal person for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom gets lost in the rain on his first night in Chicago.

He was definitely lost and that was not a good thing; especially since the August evening sky was gloomy with rain clouds. He was beginning to realize that what he had thought would be a quick stroll to work off some of the lingering jet-lag and get some air had become a distracted wandering through the unfamiliar streets. Worse, his mobile was not co-operating and he was getting more and more frustrated trying to keep a viable signal. Perhaps it hadn’t charged properly. Regardless, he was certain that he was going to catch hell for destroying what little order his publicist had been able to foist on him, and he certainly wasn’t enjoying the free time he had insisted on having after his long flight in.

"What utter rubbish!" he exclaimed. He was a grown man and didn’t need constant supervision. Or so he would have thought, before he had shook himself from his reverie and looked around to discover he didn’t recognize anything around him.

At first, she wasn’t sure if the voice she heard was from her headphones or from the street. She frowned at her iPhone, wondering why on earth Tumblr would have suddenly started playing voice clips without prompting. Plus, what movie was that line from? Tom never really went off like that except in The Deep Blue Sea… and there was no line like that in there. She glanced up when she got to the corner of Adams and Wabash, under the L train stop, waiting for traffic to clear. As she glanced to her right, she could finally see of the source of the mild swearing.

In that moment, all of the other noise around her seemed to cease. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be! Could it? Why the hell would Tom Hiddleston of all people be in the middle of downtown Chicago? Wasn’t he supposed to be doing promo work for Thor 2 or that vampire movie that was coming out soon? Or rehearsing for Coriolanus?

But the longer she watched him, the more convinced she was. She knew the angles of his face and (more tellingly) the relatively few items of clothing he routinely wore on the road: the black jeans, white button-down shirt, the jacket, the TomTom watch.

He was still muttering angrily at his phone. Clearly something was wrong. This was the perfect chance to approach him… it had to be. Maybe she could help him, whatever the problem was. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over to him, hoping her voice would work properly.

"Excuse me, are you okay? Do you need some help?" she asked, stopping within one foot of him.

Startled and more irritated with himself than anything else, Tom glanced up with a frown. “I must have gotten turned around or something and I can’t seem to get a proper signal here!” he blurted angrily. He instantly regretted his temper, seeing her open, helpful expression. The young lady seemed to be friendly, and he must have looked completely off his head, stomping about and glaring at his mobile, which he kept waving about like some sort of torch. He just despised the idea that he could have been so easily confused, or be so distracted as to not pay attention as he strode around the city blocks. Even more galling was he couldn’t remember what had so occupied his thoughts; the shock of realizing he was lost had chased them from his recall. “Oh, look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so sharp, and that’s very kind of you to ask…” He peered down at his phone once again. “I’m Tom,” he announced, offering his free hand to her. “And your name is…?”

"J-Jennifer." she managed to stammer out, taking his hand. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and only barely managed to keep from blurting out that she knew who he was. She hadn’t been living under a rock for the last year or something. "So, um… what did you need to look up on your phone? Mine’s got a signal just fine." she offered, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

She hadn’t expected the grumpiness… but then, he had softened so quickly after he realized he was being rude. She only hoped all the sweet stuff she’d seen online about him wasn’t some sort of public-faced persona or something.

"Ah, well, yes, truth is, I just got into town," he tried to explain. "I’m not even sure where I am." He named the hotel, asking if she knew where it was. "I can’t imagine it’s too far off, I just got a bit turned around."

"It’s behind you. The east entrance to the Palmer House is right past Millers Pub." she said pointing at the very large sign in question. "The front entrance is one block north… that way and a little less than halfway down the block west. I cut through the Palmer every day to get to the Red Line stop on the other side." she explained. "So… you just got into town. Visiting? Vacation? Business?" she asked curiously.

The light changed and she stepped back onto the curb, pulling him by the sleeve gently so he wouldn’t get creamed by a taxi.

"A few days between trips, actually," Tom said. "I’m in from Detroit, flying out to the West Coast and then beyond. I’ve never been to Chicago and I thought it would be nice to get away for a few days while I could, so we arranged it for this time." He shook his head with a bemused smile. "So it was right there the whole time, eh? I rarely get jet-lagged this badly. Thank you very much, Jennifer, I really do appreciate your help." He slipped his mobile into his pocket and regarded her with a bright look. "I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but could I buy you a drink or dinner or something, as a thank you?"

For a moment, her brain refused to wrap around what he was asking her. She just got off from work 15 minutes ago, she had no makeup on, her hair was a mess from the wind, and these were not exactly her best clothes despite being office-appropriate. But what the hell else could she possibly say?

"Sure. I’d love to go out for dinner with you… and maybe a drink afterwards if you’re up for it. I imagine jet-lag does not do wonders for one’s appetite." she smiled, trying to stay in her skin and not shout hallelujahs to the still-darkening sky. Speaking of which… "Ah… we had better take cover. That sky does not look happy."

Tom looked up, his view partially covered by the elevated train tracks. “No, it doesn’t, does it?” he remarked. “Shall we, then? I don’t eat much on airplanes; don’t care for it,” he went on as they crossed the street.

In a moment of bravery, she took his hand, leading him down the street to the aforementioned Millers Pub. “I’m guessing the Palmer has a nice lounge in it if you want to stick close to your chosen headquarters. Or, we could go in here. I’ve never been in Millers, so I can’t vouch personally for their fare. They do get good reviews on Yelp though.” She had to keep it cool or she would scare him off.

But god, he was just so gorgeous. Even tired and jet-lagged and probably starving, he was incredibly handsome. She couldn’t help but look at him appreciatively.

"The pub is fine," he replied. "It’s kind of you to recommend it; I really am new to Chicago. And this is just a thank you, no strings attached, I promise."

"My pleasure, really. I’ve lived here for ten years now and I’m still finding new things. It’s easy to get overwhelmed. Add jetlag to the mix and it’s no wonder you got turned around." she said, having to quicken her stride to keep up with him. She’d often tagged him as ‘Tom of the Three Foot Femurs’ in her Tumblr blog and it seemed it was no joke!

"So… you said you’re here for just a few days? Just personal time?" she asked curiously as they headed into the pub. Once they were inside, she relaxed a little. Miller’s was done up to be a sort of cross between a high-end steak house and an English pub; lots of dark, polished wood and leather seats, a bar chocked full of gleaming bottles, relatively few televisions set up for sports.

Tom flashed a bright smile. “Just the weekend, really; a couple days stopover in between gigs,” he confessed. “It’s a little funny that I managed to lose my way right off; I’m here to visit and explore the city rather than for professional obligation. Very unstructured schedule.” He scanned the room, considering. “I’m hungry, so I’m going to suggest we sit and order something, and please, don’t be shy, all right?”

"Do I look like I’m shy about ordering food?" she couldn’t help but smile, her initial instinct always to play off her weight as humorous. The host greeted them and led them to a booth right away, handing them their menus. A busboy showed up swiftly to fill their water glasses and assure them that their waiter would be over in few minutes so they could have time to look over the menu.

Tom dismissed her self-depreciation with a wave. “No, you’re a confident, considerate woman who has no qualms about offering a mad Englishman some assistance,” he remarked. “Brave of you. You should know I’m not usually so prickly.” He glanced over the menu, debating.

“I know. You don’t seem the type.” she said, slyly, not sure if she should let on that she knew exactly who he was. Would that change his attitude if he knew she was a diehard fan? Would he think that was the only reason she had helped him out?

She glanced down at the menu, swallowing hard. The fare was typically American with some assorted ethnic offerings, mostly Greek. Would it be gauche if she ordered a burger? Or would he make a comment if she ordered a salad after what she’d just said? Spaghetti or ribs were both far too messy considering she was wearing her work clothes and couldn’t afford to get stains on them.

In the end, she made several choices and decided she would see what he ordered first and then narrow it down to one.

"Not so easy a choice," he remarked. "There’s a lot of good stuff on here! I’m debating between the grilled cheese and ham and one of the burgers…the bleu cheese and bacon sounds delicious! And I think I’ll get a beer. A Fuller’s, maybe…"

"I was looking at the burgers too." she admitted with a smile. "I was thinking maybe the barbeque burger. It is summer after all and I don’t have a grill at home, so I’ve been missing having barbeque. And I’ll just get a Coke to drink."

They set the menus aside and sipped at the water. “Pardon me, please,” Tom asked, checking his mobile. “Looks like I do have coverage here. I just need to text a friend quickly, if that’s all right.” He tapped out a text message and put it away. “Done! So, tell me about yourself, Jennifer. What do you do here in Chicago?”

Why the fuck did a simple question like that make her blush? “Oh, um… nothing special. I work for a market research company. We… um… pay consumers to send us the junk mail and email they don’t want and we create reports for it that we sell to the companies.” she explained, realizing that it sounded incredibly boring compared to the life of an actor. “I’m sort of in charge of the consumer side… helping them figure out what we want and what we don’t. Making sure they get paid on time. Letting them know when we are offering extra for certain kinds of pieces.” She took a sip of water. This was as good a place as any to sort of let on that she knew who he was. “And… I have a feeling I know what you do already. But just in case I’m mistaken… what do you do?”

Tom was listening, giving her his full attention. There was certain shyness there, but she was comfortable and confident, which he found charming. “Ah, you have your suspicions, do you?” He chuckled. “I’m an actor,” he continued. “I’m Tom Hiddleston. You may have heard of me, but then I didn’t give you my last name, before. I didn’t get yours, either.”

“It’s Black. Very simple.” she sighed softly. “Two most common names in the vast world and I got both of them.” She paused and then licked her lips, looking up at him shyly. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m… um… quite familiar with your work. Your Nerd HQ interview was fantastic, by the way. You seemed very open and comfortable… despite being asked for the velociraptor impression.”

Tom’s expression burst in a wide grin. “Oh, yes, well, that was a lot of fun, really! Zach’s an old friend. So, you’ve seen the films, then, and you saw the interview.” He laughed. “Ah, well, I suppose I can’t go about in public much anymore; I’m not used to that, really. But the cat’s out of the bag, anyway.”

“Well… in this country, at least, most people would know you as Loki. You don’t look like Loki on your own, so they may notice that you’re an exceptionally good-looking guy, but they wouldn’t immediately go ‘hey, that’s that guy from Avengers!’.” she explained. “You’re very good at that, from what I’ve seen. You disappear into your roles, which is the point, I guess. Even the ones where you aren’t covered in makeup and a wig and leather and metal costumes. I mean, you didn’t change much about your appearance for Captain Nicholls, but I don’t think anyone will recognize you as that guy from War Horse. Because you weren’t you.” she stopped and looked down, blushing even more. “OK, that sounded dumb, didn’t it?”

He looked at her, bemused. “No, it didn’t sound dumb at all. And that was a tremendous compliment, really. As an actor I appreciate that you see the character instead of the actor during the performance; that’s my job, to do that. It’s one of the magical parts of my profession, a part I enjoy a lot and work very hard to achieve.”

"From my end, you’ve been entirely successful in that effort." she smiled, relieved that her rambling had formed itself into the compliment she meant. "I was mostly amazed by how you managed to transform Loki, who is not a terribly sympathetic character in the comics, into someone who most of the audience identified with. Loki has been so… so terribly hurt… and yeah, he’s reacting to it in an extreme manner, fueled by whatever influence Thanos has over him… but that doesn’t change the fact that he has suffered badly."

"Oh, Loki is most certainly a villain, but he’s more mischievous than malicious. I had long conversations with Ken… sorry, that’s Kenneth Branagh; he directed Thor… about Loki’s personality and then Joss Whedon had his own input on Loki’s state of mind, and then there’s some things that happen in Dark World that further defines him…." Again he laughed. "You’ve probably heard all of this, though, and I tend to wax poetic about, well, about anything, but about Loki in particular, lately."

"Well, with all of the promo stuff going on for The Dark World, you should be geared up for waxing poetic about Loki. Luckily, he seems to be easy to wax poetical about." she nodded. She fell quiet when the waiter came over to take their orders, not wanting to give him away to anyone. Once the waiter had left to take their order to the kitchen, she folded her hands on the table. "If you don’t want to talk about work, we don’t have to. I know you interview a lot and maybe it’s kind of exhausting to answer the same questions over and over."

"It can be exhausting, yes, especially the travel," he remarked. "But it’s really gratifying to see how much everyone has embraced the character and really brought him to the fore. It’s not anything I ever expected. And how fortunate am I to have found a fan here in the mysterious city of Chicago!"

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about mysterious. Chicago’s just a slightly more polite version of New York, really. I will admit, I first became a fan because of Loki. I only just saw Thor for the first time over last Christmas, so I’m kind of late to the Hiddlestoner party. But I immediately watched Avengers and Deep Blue Sea and Midnight in Paris. Hollow Crown doesn’t air here until next month, but I have seen clips of it.” she explained.

"I only know Chicago through books and film, I’m afraid. Oh, that term; Hiddlestoner!" Tom shook his head, laughing. "It’s sounds so…punitive. Like there’s a lynch mob forming with pitchforks coming to burn down the castle, or something! I suppose it’s better than, well—" he cleared his throat, changing the subject. "Anyway, bless you for liking the rest. I am so pleased with the Hollow Crown series; it was so wonderful to do, and an honor to be cast in. Are you interested in Shakespeare?"

"I am. I read Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar, Macbeth, and Hamlet in high school. In college, we did a few of plays in some very odd settings. Like… we did Twelfth Night as if it was set in the Star Wars universe. And we did Midsummer Night’s Dream where all of the fairies were Goth and the players were beatniks… that sort of thing." she nodded. "I’ll admit, I have trouble understanding it if I’m just reading it. I prefer watching Shakespeare… which is, again, the point. It’s a play… it’s meant to be performed, not read."

"Of course! It’s really a pity that for so many people their first exposure to Shakespeare is just a dry reading of one of the plays, isn’t it? I wasn’t really interested until I saw it performed when I was a teen, and then it was like there was a whole world of meaning in it, not just some old, dusty words that didn’t apply at all to modern life or personal experience." Tom nattered on, this being one of his favorite subjects, but he came to realize just how much he was enjoying himself. Jennifer was nodding and listening and occasionally adding her own comments. She was lovely, not in any glamorous way, but in a very real, solid sense. It was something he had sorely missed recently. He found it refreshing to have a simple meal and quiet company, and he found himself feeling quite attracted to this composed, calm woman.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom makes a bold suggestion and an impromptu trip to East Rogers Park is made.

Their food arrived in a timely manner and, although she knew it was very good, she couldn’t safely say she remembered anything much about it. She was too enthralled by the man in front of her. If she had thought him gorgeous from watching him onscreen, being confronted with him in person was an entirely different animal. She did have to consciously keep from making Tumblr references, not wanting to have to explain them… but in general, she tried to treat him just like any other man, albeit an incredibly handsome and articulate one.

They had greeted the arrival of their meal with enthusiasm, lapsing into a comfortable lull in conversation as they ate. It was a leisurely repast, and the food was delicious. Filling his belly was just the thing for chasing away much of his jet-lag, and he sighed happily. “That was perfect!” he exclaimed. He tapped his fingers absently on the menu. “Care for some dessert?”

"Absolutely." she smiled, nodding eagerly. She didn’t want this little impromptu "date" to end, so anything she could do to prolong it was appreciated. "Pudding, it is." she couldn’t help but wink at him, remembering the confusion over his use of the term ‘pudding" to describe any kind of dessert.

Tom’s eyes twinkled. “Pudding it is, indeed!” he agreed. “I think I’ll have the cheesecake, with strawberries.”

"Good choice. I’ll go with the apple pie a la mode." she said. Once more, the waiter cheerfully took their order and hurried off to the kitchen. More people had come into the pub for their after-work drinks and meals. A game had been put on the TVs by the bar; the Cubs were playing, from what she could tell but she wasn’t sure who they were currently losing to.

"So, I am really looking forward to seeing Only Lovers Left Alive. I’ve always loved vampire stories anyway and the stills I’ve seen just look fantastic." she said, sipping from her ice water since she had finished her Coke already.

"Ah, well, that’s Jim’s genius," Tom replied modestly. "It’s more a love story than a vampire story; it’s a kind of study of how immortality would impact one’s relationships. The fact that they are vampires is secondary."

"Exactly! That’s part of the appeal. I was fed on Anne Rice vampires and Anita Blake and JR Ward. Those are my vampires. I never got much into True Blood or Vampire Diaries. I read Twilight but found it laughable. And Adam and Eve both just look so gorgeous. The set looks gorgeous. And from what little I’ve heard about it, it’s going to be right up my alley; a slow-moving, thoughtful, romance."

“Well, it’s more than a romance….I don’t know if you know Jim Jarmusch’s work, but it is amazing! A lot of it showcases Detroit; I really loved the atmosphere it brings to it. And working with Tilda; that was a privilege, I must tell you! I do hope you enjoy it; it’s not at all like the more commercial films.”

"Detroit: a dying town unwittingly playing host to a depressed rock and roll vampire. Sounds like a very introspective film and I am dying to see it! I just hope we actually get it! The release date keeps changing for the US. First it was October, then it was December, then March… now it’s April."

"Believe me, I fully understand your frustration." Another welcome wave of relaxation washed over him. Outside the rain had come and gone, but the atmosphere in the restaurant was still comfortably sociable, not in the close way of an English neighborhood pub, but with a typical Midwestern friendliness. She was pretty, this Jennifer, again in a pleasant, natural way. She was just being herself, a trait he had always found attractive. He had so missed time like this, just being himself away from either work or the limelight.

Their dessert arrived and she was pleased to find that the ice cream was not just vanilla ice cream, but vanilla bean, with tiny black flecks of vanilla in it. She took a bite and made an involuntary noise of delight. “Oh… my god. You have to taste this.” she said, unthinkingly taking another spoonful and holding it out to him. “This is amazing.”

Tom leaned across the table and snagged the vanilla offering right from the spoon like a baby bird. He grinned cheekily as it melted on his tongue. “Mmmm,” he hummed. “Delicious!”

She smiled, her cheeks pink as she licked the spoon and continued with her dessert. “How’s your cheesecake? I’m guessing you’re probably used to Italian-style cheesecake in England… and that’s New York-style cheese cake.”

Tom sliced a sliver of cake and speared a slice of strawberry. “It’s not quite as creamy as a New York cheesecake…but it’s much sweeter than an Italian one. Here, have a taste.” he held out the morsel to her.

She leaned over the table, taking care not to drag her boobs through her dessert. The motion was not nearly as smooth as his had been, given that she was nearly a foot shorter than he was. But she managed and she was able to take the bite of cheesecake and strawberry from his fork. She sat back down, chewing thoughtfully. “That is good… tastes like Eli’s. Kind of a Chicago thing.”

"It’s delicious," he agreed. He dug in to the dessert and berries and tried to quell the surge of heat watching her eat had produced. It was an innocent gesture, and his reaction startled him.

All too quickly, her pie and his cheesecake were both gone and the waiter had dropped off their check. She sipped the last of her water and pulled her purse over, digging out her wallet. “How much do I need to put in?” she asked, used to having to split the check. Even when she’d last gone on dates, she’d always paid half the bill.

"Oh, no, absolutely not!" Tom exclaimed, reaching out to stop her. "This was my thank you for helping me get my bearings. Please."

She looked up at him, eyes shining as she smiled. “Really? Well… thank you. That’s very sweet of you!” she said, her tone honestly surprised. “Are you sure you don’t want me to at least pay the tip or something?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s my pleasure, truly.” He was reluctant to end this enjoyable interlude, but he knew they should probably go their separate ways. He settled the bill and they got up to go. He was pleased that there were no requests for photos or autographs, none of the expected demands that celebrity usually brought. He was also pleased that apparently they had dined in relative privacy, but he recognized that no-one knew that he was in Chicago, so there was very little possibility of it being leaked to the press.

The sidewalk was still shiny from rainfall and the air heavy with the fresh scent of the storm as they left. The train roared and shrieked overhead on the metal tracks, echoing the distant thunder, momentarily making them deaf. When the sound died back down, he turned toward her. “I had a wonderful time,” he said. “I hope I didn’t spoil any plans you had tonight.”

She had turned to him instinctively, not knowing what to do next. Should she ask for his number? Give him her number? It was still relatively early… not even 7 o’clock. Should she ask him to do something else? “No, no… I had no plans other than Netflix and microwaved leftovers. So, this was a real treat to get to hang out with you.” she smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time with me.”

“Yes, I did. Ah, so…no-one to head home to?” he asked cautiously. She hadn’t mentioned a significant other, and she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but he wasn’t going to assume anything. A little voice inside his head questioned what the hell he was thinking, asking that, and he shoved that criticism away.

"Other than a whiny cat, nope." she shook her head. "I’m single… no kids, no husband, no boyfriend, no girlfriend, nothing like that. What about you? Strictly confidential, of course." she asked. She could think of no other reason why he would ask if she had a ‘significant other’ other than maybe… just maybe… he wanted the night to continue. But she wanted to be sure that she wouldn’t be stepping on another woman’s toes either.

He shook his head, his hands shoved into his pockets. “No, nobody at the moment,” he replied, “and yes, your discretion is greatly appreciated. Could I walk you to the train, or do you need a taxi?” He paused. “I just realized I don’t know where you live, either.”

"Oh, I live on the far North side. It’s like 45 minute train ride. Chicago’s a pretty big city." she said. "I don’t actually own a car, so I’m used to navigating the mass transit system. It’s pretty good… on par with London’s Underground, in my opinion, although I haven’t been to London in a long time."

"You’ve been to London, then?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, twice." she nodded, starting to walk in the direction of the train station, keeping her pace slow so he might follow. "I went there for spring break during my first year at university. My school had a really big study abroad program and, in order to entice us to participate, they would send the whole freshman class to London. And I went again for about three weeks after I’d graduated because my old room-mate who was two years below me had opted to actually do the study abroad and was attending CUL for visual art.”

Tom kept pace with her easily. “Wait, when was this?” he asked.

"First time was 1997. Second time was 2001." she said, more ambling than actually walking, looking up at him. The sidewalks were still far from abandoned, people rushing about to get to dinner reservations or theaters, but they were less crowded than before and so they could meander along the way.

"Either you’re older than you look, or you went to college at a very young age," he commented.

She laughed. “I’m older than I look. I just turned 35 two weeks ago. No great credit to me, I’m afraid. Just good genes. People would think my mother was my sister all through high school and college. My dad’s nearly eighty and people don’t believe him when he tries to get a senior discount.”

Tom laughed. “I know that too well! So, you’ve been to my hometown. Small world!” The stairs to the train platform was soon right before them.

"To be fair, your hometown is London… kind of a popular destination." she smiled, turning towards him at the stairs. "Well, um… this is the way down to the Red Line… I guess this is where… we part." he pushed a few locks of her hair back behind her ear shyly. She didn’t want to leave him yet… and he didn’t seem to really want her to go yet either if she was reading him correctly.

The lights from the shops and the restaurant and the station painted flashes of color over her in the dusky gloom of the evening. The effect was like a Hopper painting, stark splashes of color in the faded grays. “Can I assume you’re working tomorrow?” Tom inquired suddenly.

"You do have jet-lag. It’s Friday. I don’t work on the weekends. I’m a good little nine-to-fiver." she smiled, pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose. "Why? Was there something else you wanted to do… together… Tom?" she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt.

"Since I’m only here for the weekend," Tom answered quietly. "I could use a guide around the city, if you’re available."

"I’d love to." she said, her smile wide. "How do you want to do this? Should I come back downtown in the morning and get you or… do you want to meet somewhere?" she asked, eyes shining in the light from the traffic and streetlamps.

"I could…get you a room at my hotel," he suggested. "Or…let me get you a cab, and I’ll send one around in the morning, if you like." What was he doing? Luke would kill him if he found out about this, if any word of this got out it would be a PR nightmare. He told his conscience to fuck off. He had already made the suggestion, and he wasn’t backing out. They were both adults, after all.

"Well, I don’t have any clean clothes to stay out tonight… unless you want me to go home and get some and come back. I could make a weekend of it. My neighbor won’t mind checking in on my cat for me." she suggested. Oh god, being in the hotel with him? How amazing would that be?

Tom smiled brightly. One long hand slipped out of his pocket and he looked down the street, searching. “I’ll get us a taxi, then.”

She was about to protest, but a taxi would be faster. She had already told him it was a 45 minute train ride to her place, so he knew it was far off. If he wanted to spend that much on a taxi, so be it. “Shouldn’t be too hard. This is State Street, one of the main roads through the city.” she told him, walking a bit closer to the curb and peering at the traffic headed their way. “Taxis should be available; most people are still in the theaters or already at dinner.”

This close to the Palmer Hotel, it wasn’t too difficult to hail a cab, and within moments, Tom found himself in the back seat next to this intriguing woman as the taxi threaded its way through traffic and sped along a long, winding road parallel to Lake Michigan.

She gave the driver the simplest directions she could. Luckily, Lake Shore Drive was relatively light on traffic this time of night and they made it back to her place in East Rogers Park quickly. Her heart was in her throat as she headed up the walk, keenly aware of Tom’s footsteps following after her while the cab waited. “Um… I feel like I should warn you… my flat’s kinda cluttered and messy. I’m a very bad housekeeper.” she said as she turned the key in the lock and let them both into the tiny foyer. She could already hear her cat meowing at the front door to her apartment.

"I could wait here, or in the cab, if you’d prefer."

"No, no… that’s okay. It would be rude to leave you standing on my doorstep." she shook her head, trying to unlock her front door and having the kick it a bit since it had a habit of sticking in the summer heat. Her grey, long-haired cat immediately meowed at her in annoyance, winding about her legs.

"I know, Eowyn… you want to be fed and petted and paid attention to. Five minutes, kitten-face." she spoke to the cat as if it were an impatient person rather than an animal.

Tom was more a dog person, but the dainty little cat was oddly endearing. She was a fluffy thing, gray with a tail like a feather plume and her meow belied her doll-like size; it was low and sultry like an old film diva. “Hello,” Tom murmured to her.

Eowyn regarded this stranger in her domain speculatively for a second and then proceeded to rub against his legs too, meowing at him just as emphatically as she had meowed at Jennifer. “She never got the memo that she is a cat and cats are supposed to hide under the nearest convenient piece of furniture when confronted with a new person.” Jen smiled, letting Tom all of the way inside and shutting the door behind them. “Just give me a few minutes to pack a bag and then feed her.”

“That’s fine; take your time.” It must have been the cat’s more puppy-like behavior that made her likable to him. He couldn’t resist bending down to stroke her fuzzy head. “She’s quite a little sweetie, isn’t she?” A smile flashed over his face as Eowyn the cat’s loud purr vibrated up from under his hand. “Oh, goodness, listen to that purr!”

"She’s very friendly. She even purrs at the vet’s office." Jennifer said, heading quickly into her bedroom and starting to throw clothes and such into a duffel bag with comic book images from Thor all over it. Once she had done that, she set the bag in the living room and picked up Eowyn’s empty food dish. Seeing that, Eowyn abandoned Tom’s petting and followed her owner, the meowing increasing tenfold.

"I know, I know… here you go, princess." she said, finally setting the dish back down with a small mound of wet cat food in it. The cat immediately dug in happily, purring like an outboard motor.

"Okay, we’re all ready to go. I texted my neighbor when we were in the cab, so she’ll look after her the rest of the weekend." Jen said, picking up her bag.

"Need help with anything?" Tom asked as they went out. "Oh, nice bag!"

"Hmm? Oh! Yeah, I got it for subscribing to Entertainment Weekly. Loki’s on here quite a bit too." she laughed. "And it’s not heavy at all. I can manage. Be good, Eowyn. Don’t give Jemelle any trouble." she said to the still nomming cat. Soon they were out the door and back in the cab.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jennifer head back to the hotel and make further plans for the evening.

The streetlamps sent revolving splashes of color as they made their way back onto Lake Shore Drive. Tom kept glancing over at Jennifer. There was a touch of the surreal to this whole evening, but he knew it was more than just the jet-lag and the beer that was talking to him. She was attractive, this Jennifer, but it was more than physical attraction. It always was, for him. She was just so genuine, in a way he hadn’t really experienced in a long while, and he simply found himself wanting to be with her. In what way, he wasn’t certain, but he felt relaxed and comfortable around her.

She had settled against the back of the seat, alternating between watching the street and watching him. A few times, she caught him looking at her, which made her curious. He was a gorgeous guy, so there was nothing weird about her looking at him. But for him to be looking at her? That struck her as unique. “So…” she began when the silence began to press just a little too much. “You haven’t done a song of the day tweet in a while. What was the last song you listened to?”

"Last I listened to, or last I’ve heard?" he quipped.

She smirked at him. “Last listened to. Like actually paid attention to and listened to. Bonus points if you sang along to it.”

Tom made a noise. “Strike the singing; not one of my talents. Your cat could probably do better.” He considered her question. “Radioactive by Imagine Dragons. Of course I’ve been hearing ‘Get Lucky’ constantly, but I suppose that’s to be expected. I really enjoy Daft Punk. I’ve been listening to a lot of country lately, too. You?”

"Hmm… well I had Pandora on at work while I was pulling reports… and I had it on a Broadway and movie musicals station. I think the last thing that played was Seasons of Love from Rent. On my phone…" she flicked on her phone to check which song last played. "Mordred’s Lullaby by Heather Dale… she’s a folk singer who writes these gorgeous songs all about stories from King Arthur."

“That sounds intriguing,” he remarked. So she enjoyed music and musical theatre; that’s a good start. He told himself he had to stop staring. Despite having been on parade for weeks, it had been a long time since he had really met someone new and had a decent conversation like this, and certainly too long since he…well, was he really considering that? He supposed he was; she was attractive, and they were both adults and unattached. Dear lord, Luke would have a holy fit if he got word of it! Tom smiled at the thought.

"I’ll play it for you at some point, if you like. Just not now out of deference to our poor, beleaguered cabbie." she smiled. "Okay… so… favorite movie that most everyone else hates? Y’know, your guilty pleasure movie… even though you say you never feel guilty about your pleasures." she couldn’t help but wink at him, remembering him saying that during one of his Thor interviews. She knew she was flirting and only hoped she was doing it smoothly.

"No, I don’t," he answered, and yes, he knew that his expression was a bit of a come-on. He caught that wink…and flirting was one game he played well. But he remained cautious. It wouldn’t do to lead her on, especially not being sure where exactly he was hoping it would lead to at the moment. A game is one thing… "Hm..movies…a double bill of Kindergarten Cop and Twins, I guess. Both of those are hilarious!"

"Have a thing for Arnold in comedy roles?" she laughed. "I actually loved Kindergarten Cop. My favorite guilty pleasure movie seems terribly racy by comparison." she shook her head. "Showgirls… no idea why! It’s a horrible, horrible movie, but I watch it all the time."

"Oh, c’mon, that wasn’t a terrible movie! It was better than Magic Mike," he laughed. "And it’s not like everyone hated my two, I just like to watch them over and over. I haven’t recently, though. I watch a lot of movies, in general, usually; I don’t often get time to go back and re-watch nowadays."

"Definitely better than Magic Mike. I swear, I nearly fell asleep during Magic Mike." she agreed. "But I do have movies that I constantly re-watch… Eat Pray Love, Under the Tuscan Sun, Princess Bride…"

"Princess Bride is a classic!" he agreed. He gave a broad grin at the comfortable silliness sharing information like this brings with it. "I’ve far too many favorite films to name them all, or even most of them. Bit of a film addict, I suppose. Well, media in general, really…"

"Not surprising. Movies and media are your bread and butter." she said. "I have tons of DVDs, I have DVDs of movies I haven’t even watched yet. Although to be fair, mostly those are scary movies that I don’t want to watch alone."

Tom nodded. “Hmm, I’m not too big on horror movies, either, although I’ve watched a quite a few. Thrillers are one thing, but blood-guts-and-gore…not really interesting.”

"Well, yeah, that’s what I mean. I don’t watch, like, the Saw movies or Final Destination. I have The Orphan and Paranormal Activity and The Ring and things like that." she explained, shifting a little on her seat so she was partially facing him rather than the front.

"Oh, I like classic horror films, stuff like The Omen, Carrie, The Exorcist, Alien, Jaws, all the old monster flicks…anything by Hitchcock and even Del Toro nowadays; I mean, that’s brilliant film!"

"Del Toro’s good. I liked Pan’s Labyrinth and both Hellboy movies." she smiled.

“Yes, indeed.” They were back on that long stretch of road that skirted the lake, which was a wide, inky expanse across a narrow strip of sand and cement breakers in the dark of night. They’d be getting back to the hotel soon.

She saw him looking out the window and felt the need to explain what he was seeing. “That’s Lake Michigan, by the way… usually just referred to as ‘The Lake’. And the road we’re on is Lake Shore Drive… playfully abbreviated to LSD.” she told him.

A laugh bubbled out of him. “LSD? Really? That’s…wow!” He shook his head. “Chicago’s quite a city! It’s hard to remember that’s a lake.” he gestured at the water. “Given any thought to what you’d like to show me in this lovely city?” He was avoiding the possibilities still available tonight; they’d be at the hotel soon enough and he wasn’t willing to lose what comfortable rapport he had with Jennifer.

“Depends a lot on your tastes.” she shrugged. “The zoo is a possibility if you like animals. There’s the Art Institute, which you may find fun on two levels considering some parts of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off were filmed there. We have a really good aquarium, natural history museum, and planetarium… all conveniently located in basically the same spot. There’s architecture tours, although, being from London, you probably wouldn’t find that all that impressive. And, as you have already seen, there are tons of good places to eat and shop and such. I think some of your favored designers have specific stores on Michigan Avenue.”

"Not so interested in shopping this go, I think, although I’ve been told it is top notch. I was thinking more from a Chicago-dweller’s perspective, perhaps. I know about the Sears Tower being the tallest building and such, Oprah and the Cubs and the Blues Brothers and Dillinger and that sort of thing. Are those all things that are typical Chicago stuff, or is that more tourist?"

"Both. Chicagoans are not shy about doing ‘tourist’ things themselves." she smiled. "But if you want insider treatment, I suggest that tomorrow night, we hit up a place called Howl at the Moon. It’s a dueling piano bar about eight blocks away. Good drinks and a hilarious music act. And they take requests."

Tom’s smile was broad and genuine. “That sounds like fun. We’ll see how the jet-lag goes, then.”

“Well, the best way to conquer jet-lag is the drink a lot of water and go to sleep at the right time for whatever time zone you’re in.” she smiled. Ha! As if she had a ton of experience with jet lag! “You had dinner at dinnertime, so you’re on the right track… it is…” she checked her phone. “Eight now… so kinda early for bed. Have you unpacked and settled into your hotel room already?”

"Not fully, no," he admitted. The cab was weaving its way along the roads between the towering buildings, having left Lake Shore Drive and the dark expanse of Lake Michigan behind them. They pulled up by the hotel; Tom helped her out and settled up with the cabbie.

She shouldered her laptop bag and her Thor bag, her purse on her other arm. It was funny. She cut through this hotel everyday on her way to work… but she’d never been a guest. She’d never even set foot in the lobby. She knew it was an expensive place… she’d looked it up once when looking for hotels for her mother. It was something like $300-$400 a night to stay here… and those were the cheaper rooms! “Are you… um… you’re sure it’s okay for me to stay here?” she turned to Tom. “I mean, isn’t this place really expensive? I don’t want to put you out…”

Tom gave her a look, stopping her protests. “It’s fine,” he reiterated. “My pleasure. Besides, you’re my personal guide to Chicago, so I need you close, don’t I?” He paused, hesitant, then shook his head. “Come on, let’s get you checked in, shall we? Then we can weigh our options for the rest of the evening.”

She nodded, smiling brightly. “Thank you… this is really very generous of you. I’ve never stayed here before.” she said, following him into the hotel up to the front desk. The concierge smiled at Tom widely. “Ah, Mr. Hiddleston. I have a message for you. A Mr. Windsor called to verify that you had checked in. He would like you to call him when you have a moment. He stated you would know the number.”

"Worse than my mother," quipped Tom. "Thank you; I’ll contact him. Is there a room open near mine? I’d like a room for my friend, please."

"Let me check." he nodded, tapping away quickly on his computer. "Yes, the room immediately adjacent to yours is open for the length of your stay. There is a door between the rooms to be accessed as well, if you would like." he looked up at Tom.

Jennifer blushed and bit her lip. Well… that had to be some kind of good omen, right? Although, she guess he would probably opt not to have it accessible. He didn’t know her from Adam (Eve?) and, for all he knew, she would sneak into his room at 3 am and steal his underwear.

"We’ll consider that," Tom replied teasingly. "Add it to my tab, or do you need my card again?" The transaction was quickly done, the card key obtained and they made their way into the elevator up to their floor.

"Wow." she said, looking about the elevator, a large mirror and gold thing that seemed quite a bit taller than most normal elevator. "I’m afraid you’ll be hearing me say that a lot." she said to Tom apologetically. "I don’t get to be in on this level of service very often. I feel a bit like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman right now… minus the whole hooker thing, obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed. "If it’s any consolation, I’m not at all used to it, myself. It is pretty cool, though. I sometimes wonder if I’ll wake up; it’s all so fantastic!" He looked around, giggling a bit. "It’s a posh place, isn’t it? Not my intent; I just took the first place suggested—which reminds me; I need to call back Luke before he sends out a search party."

"Go ahead and call your nanny. Poor Luke does not get paid enough to deal with you, honestly. Emma must be so much easier." she teased him, knowing full well that Luke Windsor was Tom’s publicist and probably his best friend.

"Now it might be," he reflected, "Although Emma has always been far easier as a person to deal with, I’m sure. But Luke enjoys his work, never doubt it." A quick flurry of typing on his phone and Tom was done.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. I just love picking him out of fan pictures of you at events. He’s always either laughing at you or, more often, looking exasperated… like a parent with a kid who keeps wandering off in the store.” she smiled.

“He has an impossible task set for him,” Tom retorted. “I just remember being on the other side of all this, so I’m heading for the barricades the minute I step out. Part of my personal obligation, if you will.”

"That’s because you’re a sweetheart." she nodded, stating it as though it were fact rather than anything up for debate. "And Luke doubly so since he mostly lets you do that."

Tom grinned. “Oh, I do what I want. Luke’s just a sweetheart because he understands that.”

"Hmm… do you play Loki or does Loki play you?" she laughed softly. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open onto their floor. She picked up her laptop bag and stepped out, looking left and then right. "Okay… what’s the room number?"

Peering at the card slip, he recited the number and ushered her down the corridor to the room. “And I’m over here,” he said, gesturing to the door next to hers.

“Conveniently located.” she nodded, stepping inside and peering around. “Wow. This is… pretty plush. If I go to sleep in that bed, I may never want to get out of it,” she laughed, setting her bags down. “I think this thing is the size of my entire apartment.”

"Well, it is a suite," Tom laughed. He gestured at a door on the interior wall. "Come to think of it, this is about the size of my London flat!"

He looked around appreciatively. “It’s a comfortable place, anyway; not too fancy, mind, but definitely up there. Good place for a few days’ retreat. Do you want to unpack and call it a night, or maybe go to the bar and get a drink or something?”

"I’ll unpack and we can go down to the bar. I think it’s called Porters. I hear they make really good mixed drinks." she said, unzipping her Thor bag and pulling out her clothes for the next few days. Mostly, this consisted of jeans and tee shirts, plus one pair of black yoga pants for hanging around in. She was also still wearing her work clothes; grey pants in the flare cut, a dark purple blouse, and a knee-length wool duster in dark grey. At least those were a bit more appropriate for going out at night. Maybe she could sweet-talk the housekeeping staff into washing the pants and shirt for her at least. The wool thing had to be dry-cleaned and that was not something she wanted to tackle.

"I’ll just pop over to mine for a minute, then, while you do that, if that’s all right?"

“Sure. Just come back here when you’re done.” she nodded. Once he was gone, she dove into her bag to find her hairbrush and makeup kit. She didn’t usually wear makeup to work since she tried to sleep as late as possible. She ran the brush through her hair just to remove the tangles and quickly put some makeup on. Without knowing what he was doing in his room, or how soon he would return, she settled for some cover-up on the few spots she had, some mascara and lip stain.

Tom slipped from her doorway to his own room. Fumbling with the card key, he managed to get the door open and entered. He didn’t really have anything to do, although he considered ducking into the washroom. Jet-lag was still in full force, and it felt like it was closing on 4 a.m. for him, but he was feeling a lot better from having had solid food and a beer. What was working him up now was this unexpected attraction to Jennifer, and what to do about it. He wasn’t a prude and they were both adults, but still, they had just met…and somewhere in his mind was the fact that she was a fan; one of his fans…he rubbed his eyes. Luke would have kittens over this; it would be a PR nightmare. But she was kind and sweet, not at all a groupie. It was just that he found her attractive, fan or not. Good god, what was he going to do? Just take her out for a drink, you damned fool, he told himself, listen to her suggestions for sightseeing, and then walk back up here and wish her good night. Simple!

He stared at the mirror on the door. He looked a bit tired. Right, he told himself. Simple as that. He wondered who he was kidding.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jennifer get back to the hotel and decide to get a nightcap... and then an entirely different kind of nightcap.

Jennifer, meanwhile, had gone back to unpacking, which was what she was supposed to be doing in the first place. Her heart, however, was quivering behind her ribs. Jesus Christ, she was in a hotel with Tom fucking Hiddleston! He had actually taken her on a date (sort of... dinner counted as a date, right?). And now he wanted to spend even more time with her!

How was this even real? Not even in her wildest imaginings (and she had an excellent imagination) could she have come up with this! She had to calm down and get a grip and be normal. Fawning over him would get her nowhere. And, frankly, even though she was not at all into casual sex under most circumstances... she had to admit she was really hoping that was where this was going to end up. Fuck, he was sex on the longest legs in the free world. Hopefully, she could keep from saying anything completely lewd and gross.

Come on, now, Tom, it's just a polite, innocent drink; don't go losing your mind, he encouraged himself. And get a move on; don't keep her waiting! He stepped into the washroom and quickly rinsed his face, smoothing over his hair and straightening his collar. He frowned, realized he was still wearing his jacket, slipped it off and hung it up in the closet. Stop being so damned paranoid, he scolded himself. She's been perfectly self-confident and poised, and you are not going to do anything foolish. He blinked at his reflection. He had to remind himself that certain details of his life were private and had been kept as such, and he was glad for it. Also, he had been told there was a fairly good bar in the hotel, and he could use a night cap.

As soon as he knocked on her door, she opened it for him, smiling. "Hey there, handsome." she greeted him playfully, hoping it didn't come off as creepy. "You look good. I always did like that shirt." she said, now recognizing it since he'd taken his jacket off. "You wore it to the Nerd HQ interview, right?" Oh god, was it weird that she knew that?

Tom glanced at the shirt. "Oh, ah, well, it's a similar one, I think...I tend to pack the same items in a travel bag, so it might be the same one, now that I think of it." He smiled. "And you look lovely yourself, but you didn't need to go through any fuss. It's just a drink and chatting." He waved her out to the hallway and walked beside her back to the elevators. "Now, if I'm correct, there are two bars here? Any preference?" 

"Never been to either, so I can't make a judgment based on personal experience. But I hear Potters is the best for mixed drinks and such. Lockwood is more a restaurant that happens to have a bar in it... and I think you need reservations." she said, trying to remember what she’d seen on the web about the two bars.

"Potters it is, then!" They traveled down the elevators and strolled through the lobby to the bar. It was an eclectic mix of modern and vintage decor, and not so crowded as to be uncomfortable. They found a quiet spot and began to look over their choices. 

"Heh, I heard about this on the news." she said, pulling the paper insert out for the menu declaring that they offered $100 margarita. "It's got some super expensive tequila in it and all. Luckily, I think my tastes are much more modest than all that."

Tom smiled. "I had a beer with dinner, so I think I'll try something else. The bourbon interests me, but I'm not sure whether to have it neat or take a Manhattan." 

"I'd say try it neat. Get of taste of it without anything else to decide if you really like it. Nothing to distract." she suggested as if she had any knowledge about bourbon at all. Or any alcohol for that matter. The only booze in her fridge at home were some Mike's Hard Lemonades and even at her work's monthly happy hours, she mostly stuck to either white wine or margarita's with just a liberal splash of tequila.

He nodded. "Yeah, that sounds best. Any thoughts on yours?"

“I'm leaning towards a white sangria. Big fan of mixing alcohol and fruit." she smiled. "Despite English, Irish, and German ancestry, I am a terrible lightweight when it comes to drinking. And I'm not even a fun drunk... I'm a sleepy drunk." she explained.

"Oh, sorry!" Tom exclaimed. "Of course, you didn't have anything with dinner...You don't have to order a drink if you'd prefer not. A soda, maybe, and we could get something to nibble on, instead, if you like."

"No, no, it's fine! I'm not a teetotaler or anything like that!" she was quick to assure him. "I'm just aware that my limits are pretty low when it comes to drinking. I can have a drink now that I now I'm in for the night, so to speak. I just didn't have one with dinner because I knew I still had to get home and I prefer not to be at risk at falling asleep on the train and winding up in Evanston."

Tom nodded. "I drink socially or on occasion; it's not a regular thing. I admit I'm indulging a bit more than usual on this little vacation; I've had to be a little spartan about that for a few months, and can kick back and treat myself now. Not too much, mind!" He laughed. "That burger and cheesecake was very filling and thoroughly satisfying after all that. I'll have to be careful!" 

"That's right, you have that Shakespeare play coming up... Coriolanus, right?" she asked, struggling for a second with how to pronounce it. "I admit, I've never read it and have zero idea what it's about... other than, presumably, some guy named Coriolanus."

Tom barked a loud laugh, astonished. He was ready to launch into a long rambling lecture on 'some guy named Coriolanus', but was interrupted by a waiter taking their drink order. He went with the bourbon, neat. "Do you want anything to nibble on?" he asked Jennifer. 

She mostly wanted him to say the word 'nibble' again. In effort to avoid him seeing that kind of a look on her face, she nodded. "Sure, how about the brownies? Should be enough to split."

"Isn't the Palmer House famous for their brownies? I thought I read that somewhere," Tom remarked. "We'll take the brownies, also, please. Anything else for you?" he asked. 

"Oh, yeah... the white sangria, please?" she smiled at the waiter. She made a point to always be polite and sweet to wait staff and anyone else in the service industry. She still shuddered to think of her own years spent working in retail hell.

"Thank you," Tom added, handing back the menus. He noted Jennifer's courtesy; it was a major point for him; too often people tended to assign a certain invisibility or even lack of humanity to service staff. He had himself spent a summer as a waiter and was dismayed at just how petty and offensive those he was hired to serve treated him and the other wait staff. In fact he had vowed never to treat any person like that, ever. 

She sat back in her chair a little, her fingers absently twisting a lock of her hair. "So... at the risk of sounding like I'm interviewing you. Is there any place in Chicago that you've always fancied visiting?"

"Sad to say, but most of what I know about Chicago is from movies or reading. I don't have much point of reference, really," Tom replied. He wondered if she knew how beguiling that little fidget she was doing with hair was to him. He fiddled with his shirt cuffs, embarrassed at his frank attraction. 

"That's not a bad place to start. I know most of the movie settings around town. The art museum from Ferris Bueller's Day Off is literally a block away. Just promise me you won't storm off to the Impressionists for the Monet." she couldn't help but tease him.

He grinned at that line. "I promise. It's as good a place to start as any other."

"And there's two huge parks flanking it... Millennium Park and Grant Park..." she nodded. "We could spend the morning there and then make our way to... Lincoln Park Zoo. They have some new baby animals that I've been wanting to see." she said, blushing a bit. "I'm... kind of an animal person. I've spent a lot of time working in animal shelters and vet clinics and stuff, so... I take any excuse I can to go to the zoo." she explained.

"That's right!" Tom agreed excitedly. "There's a zoo in Chicago, like London! All right then, so art museum, the parks, and then the zoo? Hm...Do we have any idea of what the weather is supposed to be like tomorrow? I hope we're not expecting more rain."

"I think we're done with the rain." she said, picking up her phone and checking the weather quickly. "You do have the rotten luck of visiting during an incredibly hot summer... normally it's not this bad. But it looks like tomorrow is fine... high of 85 and just partly cloudy."

"Well, that's a relief, although it's a bit hotter than comfortable."

"Better than the 100 plus is has been. This summer's been brutal. My poor little window AC units are barely wheezing along." she nodded, sitting back when the waiter returned with their drinks and brownie. She thanked him nicely. Picking up her white sangria and taking a sip. It was very cold and crisp and sweet, which was a relief.

Tom sipped at the bourbon and watched her. The bourbon was excellent: a special batch was produced just for the Palmer Hotel and it was amazingly light. He was happy he had chosen to take it neat; ice would dull the experience and he wasn't interested in anything as complex as a mixed drink before bed. "Air conditioning isn't as widespread outside of the U.S., I've noticed, but I am quite happy for it here."

"I've heard that. Both times I was in England were in the springtime, so I've never experienced summer there. Here, it's a toss-up. It could be nice and stay in the eighties all summer with a handful of 90 plus days. Or it could do this and be 90 plus all the time while flirting with 100 plus. Down South? Forget it. AC going 365 days a year." she nodded, eyeing the brownie and wondering if it would be rude to take the first bite since they were sharing a plate.

"Oh, believe me, I remember a few toasty days in New Mexico," he remarked. "The gelato is going to melt, even with the cool air in here. There's supposed to be stout in it, though. Shall we?" He offered the artistically plated dessert out to her. "Bourbon and chocolate is an excellent combo, by the way, and this looks delicious!" 

She smiled and picked up one of the spoons. "Would it be considered uncouth to make a toast using stout-flavored ice cream?" she asked, holding her treat-laden spoon up, careful not to let it dribble.  
He smiled. "Not at all."

"Well then, to spending the weekend in good company!" she grinned, nodding her head and raising the spoon in salute.

Tom returned the gesture with a lift of his own glass. "Yes, indeed!" he agreed and took a sip. Spearing a bit of the brownie he let the flavor blend with the bourbon and made a happy sound. "Mm, that is a perfect combination, truly!" 

She laughed, delighted to see him so relaxed and enjoying himself. "I'm glad! You were so stressed out when I found you, you deserve a treat." she said. Those words could have been provocative, but she made them light and sweet. "A good night's sleep and then tomorrow, art and animals."

He laughed. "I've had a few treats tonight, really, More than I probably should, but at least I had the benefit of some wonderful company with whom to share them." He took another bite and sip, still smiling. "Lucky of me to have gotten lost, eh?" 

"Not so much lost as simply facing the wrong direction." she shook her head. "But, yes, very lucky... for both of us. I've spend a fantastic evening with my favorite actor. How impossibly amazing is that?" she pointed out. Together, they were making short work of the brownie and gelato. Luckily, she didn't feel like she was hogging it all since he was matching her bite for bite.

The bourbon and sweets were beginning to work their magic and Tom was feeling quite pleasantly relaxed. He was getting drowsy, but not so much as to be outright sleepy. Not bad, considering his body was still on London time, and it was rapidly approaching dawn on his internal clock. They finished the dessert and their drinks far too fast, it seemed, but he realized that was mostly due to his reluctance to part with this attractive lady and shuffle off to bed like a responsible adult. Still, there would be tomorrow, and it would hardly do if he was tired and hung over for her guided tour. "We really should go up, get some sleep," he remarked. "Want to get a good, bright start on that tour." 

"Well, not too early. I'm pretty sure the museum doesn't even open until 10am. But if we get going by 8 or so, we can get breakfast at the Salt N Pepper Diner and get back in time for the museum opening." she said, setting her empty glass down and neatly placing their used silverware on the plate so it would be easy for the waiter to collect.

"Ah, a genuine American diner! Sounds like fun," he replied. "So, up and out by eight o'clock!" He settled up with his tab, leaving a generous tip. "May I see you to your room, Ms. Black?" he asked playfully. 

"You may, Mr. Hiddleston." she said, dropping a relatively smooth curtsey. Thank goodness she was a regular at the Renaissance Faire and knew how to do that!

Tom felt a bit adolescent escorting Jennifer through the lobby and up the elevators again, but the truth was, he wanted to simply touch her, even if it was only her arm. It was odd that he was shy about it, or that she hadn't tried to do the same thing to him. He had been under a barrage of fans wanting that kind of contact for some time, and it was something he had grown so accustomed to that he felt the absence of it.

Once they got to the correct floor, she stayed by his side, trying to match his stride as best she could. The man’s legs were so long he was practically taking one step for her every two! The hallway wasn't exactly narrow, but she drew up closer to him to allow a maid to pass by them. Instinctively, she took his hand so they wouldn't just bump into each other.

They drew up outside their rooms, but neither of them seemed willing to let go. Her hand seemed almost child-sized in his, but there was something so instinctively innocent how she had reached for him... and he hadn't hesitated to enclose her hand in his, to guide her. He simply stood there for a long moment, holding her hand, looking at her. Like most people she was much shorter than he was, and she was not a model or Hollywood star or anything of the sort. In a way, he felt comfortable around her like he did around his sisters. There was no pretense, no fuss about fame; but he was definitely feeling more than brotherly toward her.

"Well, I guess this good night. Do I get a good night kiss?" she teased him, clearly not expecting him to make good on the request. The words were playful and light and held no obligation in them whatever.

Surprised, he let drop her hand, only to reach down and draw her face up toward his. He kissed her cheek gently and didn't linger, but it had been more than he had expected to give her, and he realized he rather enjoyed it. She was soft and steady, the scent of fruit and wine and chocolate dessert still just detectable on her skin. "Good night, Jennifer," he wished her. "Thank you for all the help, and for the lovely time tonight...and I'm looking forward to tomorrow." 

"Me too, Tom." she managed to reply, just a little bit breathlessly. "Good night." she said before beating a hasty retreat behind her door. For a moment, she just leaned against the back of the door, willing her heart to slow down. Holy shit, he had actually kissed her! Not on the lips, true, but that would have been terribly presumptuous!

All evening, she’d been trying to ignore how fantastically good-looking he was. Now, she was free to revel in it. God fucking dammit, he was so tall and so... fit. She didn't like big, muscle-bound guys and tended more towards skinny guys anyway... so Tom had always hit all of her high points. In person... jay-sus...he looked incredible, he smelled amazing... if kelly green had a smell; that was what he smelled like.

Jen undressed, leaving her dirty clothes on the floor for now. A shower. She needed a shower and her clean nightshirt and... sleep. And probably a workout for her right hand if she expected to come down enough to sleep. She didn't want to think of the possibility of having sex dreams about Tom while he was right next door. Who knew how easily sound might travel here?

The rush of water against her skin was almost enough to knock her off her feet. Using the hotel soap and her own shampoo and conditioner, she quickly bathed and shaved. Once out and dry, with her hair neatly braided back, she changed into clean panties and her nightshirt and climbed into bed. Almost the second the light was out, her hand was sliding between her legs.

Nimble little fingers slid along her wet folds easily. God, she hadn't even known she could get this wet just by interacting (rather innocently, actually) with another person! But, fuck, everything about Tom was so incredibly sexy! The way his fingers had held the bourbon glass, how he'd licked his lips after each bite of brownie, even how had had very discreetly eyed her cleavage.

She moaned softly into the pillow, rolling so she was half on her stomach, fingers curling and flicking against her clit. She so wanted to feel Tom's hands on her skin! Not that he ever would. Given the type of women he'd been rumored to have been dating, she was not his type. But at least now she had some very fine fodder for just this sort of activity. His eyes, his voice, even the bit of scruff he currently had on his face thanks to his long plane ride.

"Tom..." she whispered breathlessly against the sheets, her other hand sliding up to one breast, pulling and tweaking her nipple, making herself gasp. She was strung so tightly that it took very little to push her over the edge. She buried his face against the pillow to muffle her cries as she came, body arching and quivering with pleasure, heart hammering madly against her ribs.

Trembling, she used one of her makeup-removing wipes to clean off her hand and her inner thighs, discarding it somewhat guiltily in the small trashcan. God, what he think if he had heard her? There was only the one wall between them... one with a door in it, at that!

She settled back down and closed her eyes, still breathing deeply; skin feeling flushed so that she kicked the blankets down and curled up with just the white sheet. Sleep, she just needed some sleep. Tomorrow was another day and she had to show Tom Chicago... and she would be damned if she did so while nodding off on the bus!

Tom fumbled with the card key and strolled into his room, flicking on the light. Physically he was beyond tired, but he felt like he was light as air, floating. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his suit jacket on the chair before flopping backward onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. There was only a wall between them; less than that, really, since there was a connecting door. And he was acutely aware of how much he wanted that barrier out of the way. "Get a grip, you silly boy," he told himself, with the sad realization that he was likely going to have to do precisely that. "You just met her, for goodness sake." His body's rebellious response wasn't interested in reason. Tom groaned softly. Sitting up, he reached for his belt and pulled out his shirt tails. 

He stood up, padding across the carpet in his socks as he slid off his belt and began unbuttoning his shirt. It landed in a crumpled heap by the bathroom door, joined by his trousers and socks shortly thereafter. Turning on the taps, he got the water to a good temperature and stepped in. 

The warmth of the water cascading over his head, across his shoulders and down his body was welcome and enveloped him in relaxation in much the same way as the food and drink had. He washed his hair and lathered up, enjoying the sensation of washing away the grime of travel and jet-lag. The soap helped arouse him further, and he was soon concentrating on the sensations of it, seeking some relief even if it was only physical.   
It wasn't like he was a stranger to this activity, in fact, it had been this more than any other for a couple of years now. But he found himself thinking about the woman in the room next to his; her soft cheek and ample, generous curves, her hair that seemed to form long, loopy curls all on its own, her bright eyes and friendly, confident manner. He wondered what she looked like beneath those clothes, what it would feel like to explore her body, how she would respond to his touch. He wondered what she was like in bed, and his body let him know that it approved of this train of thought.

Soap was not the best substitute for lube, despite the lather, but his imagination, well-fueled by the bourbon and sleep deprivation, was relentless. There was a sample bottle of lotion somewhere out there. He caught sight of it and scooped it up, letting go long enough to get the cap off and pour some of the contents out into his palm. He leaned back against the water-slicked tiles with a muffled groan to continue. 

How long had it been since he’d actually slept with someone? Too long now… months? Longer. He hadn’t dated anyone since…No, he shut down that memory very quickly. He wasn’t going to dwell on any of that, other than acknowledge that he was feeling deprived, and justified in fantasizing about a woman he hardly knew; a woman who was a few mere yards away and separated by a door and two locks. It allowed for some safety, and distance. What the fuck would she think if she knew what he was doing to himself? He closed his eyes, water droplets falling from his wet hair as his slid the lotion in his hand up and down his stiffened cock. 

He gasped and gripped himself tighter, pumping. It was all about sensation at that point, that and the aching need for release. He wanted more, so much more…he wanted to touch another, be touched, to make love with long, lazy foreplay and lots of kissing and rolling about on rumpled sheets and beneath blankets and exhausted laughter and cuddling and holding each other quietly afterward. He needed that, not this, not just his sexual thoughts and masturbation in a hotel shower, alone again and so tired.... She was right there, just on the other side of the wall...

He hissed through gritted teeth, one hand still moving frantically over his twitching flesh, the other caressing his belly, his chest, up to his neck, across his shoulder and collar bone. Quicker, harder, almost to the point of pain but pulling back from that in a building frenzy, until he could feel it shiver up his spine. He moaned, letting it take him, and he came, frothy drops pulsing down the wet length over his still-stroking hand. For long moments, he just rested against the wall, legs shaking, heaving as his heart pounded in his chest, gasping like a fish out of water. He waited until he could collect himself and form a coherent thought, then gingerly let go, rinsing his hand off under the water. Drowsiness rushed over him, and he was eager to rinse off and get to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jennifer have breakfast and head to the Chicago Art Institute

Tom blinked blearily in the half-light of his hotel room, bunching the pillows around his head. He was lying on his side, wearing a pair of boxer briefs that he had pulled on after his shower last night. Absently he rubbed his chin, realizing he needed a shave. Squinting at the clock, he wondered if he had enough time to work out, remembering that Jennifer had planned to take him to a diner for breakfast.

No, not enough time, he noted. Damn. Ah, well, he hoped that the other activities she had planned for the day would involve enough exercise to offset his not being able to do a formal workout that morning. He was not a morning person, preferring to sleep in when he was able to do so; but he was not able to today, so he rolled over and threw back the covers. A quick trip to wash up and he left the bathroom. Still in the boxers he ran through some of the most basic of yoga steps, stretching.

By contrast, Jennifer was still very asleep, her phone tucked under her pillow so the alarm would wake her up around 7:30. She woke briefly around dawn, looked at the time and turned over with a groan, turning her back on the pale beam of sunlight coming from between the curtains.

Her alarm went off right on time and she groaned, getting up stiffly and trying to make some sense of her hair, which had dried into ringlets. She rose and yawned and went into the washroom, washing her face and brushing her teeth before putting on a little makeup. Quickly, she changed into her clothes for the day; a pair of dark blue jeans and fitted pink t-shirt. She combed her hair and parted it on the side, pinning the thicker side back with a simple barrette. Once her sneakers were on, she grabbed her purse and her key card and knocked on the door between hers and Tom’s rooms.

He had dressed casually, enjoying the rare downtime to wear jeans and a jumper, and had fortunately finished shaving when Jennifer knocked. He had been scrolling through his voicemail messages and had just enough time to send off an important tweet moments before. Vacation from work didn’t mean being out of touch with world events, but he also knew he couldn’t let every issue take over his time: he was inclined to overlook the importance of taking care of himself in his desire to help the many causes he supported, a habit he was trying hard to break. “Good morning,” he greeted her cheerfully.

"Morning, handsome." she smiled, seeing he was fresh-faced, his skin still looking damp from his shave. "C’mon… we need to get you a transit card and hop on the Red Line if we want to beat the morning rush to the Salt and Pepper." she smiled, taking his hand.

He gave a small smile as her hand slid effortlessly into his. He really enjoyed so simple a gesture! “Oh, so we’re using public transport, are we? Lead the way!”

She led him out of the hotel, smiling happily. One quick stop at the CVS on the corner and Tom had his very own Chicago Transit card. Just outside, she led him down into the subway system, still holding his hand. “Fair warning, these probably aren’t as clean or efficient as the Tube. But they aren’t bad.” she said, hoping they didn’t get a car with a crazy homeless person in it… or one that someone had used as a bathroom.

“Sleep all right last night?” he asked her as they stood on the platform. It still felt later to him that it was, but that he put down to a lingering bit of jet lag. Jennifer looked lovely in her casual clothes, comfortable and wide awake. The air was still humid, but the sun had been peeking out from the clouds occasionally as they had descended to the subway.

“Very well. That hotel bed is much comfier than my bed at home.” she smiled. “How about you? You must be pretty used to sleeping in hotel rooms and not quite knowing where you are when you wake up.”

“Well, I don’t know about ‘used to’, but I’ve been to some pretty exotic places. Sometimes it can be a bit disorienting, yes. I slept all right; seemed to have cured most of the jet lag,” he added with a grin.

"Well, that’s good at least. It’s no good being jet-lagged on your first day about Chicago." she smiled. The train arrived and she pulled him into the car, thankfully nearly empty. She sat by the window, pointing up at the transit map over the door. "We’ll be getting off at Belmont, so we’re not going too far."

Tom sat beside her, taking care to keep his long legs in check as well as possible. He was happy to see that there weren’t many other commuters in the car with them. In London he had encountered a part of fame that he disliked the most while taking the Tube: people would attempt to take his photo on their mobiles, and he’d find them (or rather his publicist, Luke Windsor, would often be the one finding them) pasted all over the Internet. So far, so good, here in Chicago, but he was still a little leery about it.

It was only about ten minutes on the train before she tugged at his hand and got up. At Belmont, they disembarked and headed down the newly re-made stairs and out onto the streets. Only a block away was a black and white building with “Salt and Pepper Diner” gleaming on the front overhang. Lots of people were inside, but there seemed to be a steady trickle of patrons leaving, having finished their early-morning breakfasts. “Turn-over is pretty quick this time of morning, so we shouldn’t have to wait long.” she told him, getting into the quickly-moving line.

Tom towered over most of the patrons, and it afforded him a great view of the diner. The exterior was done up in black and chrome, like a diner car or juke box, with a neon sign that read EAT in huge red letters above the entrance. Inside was also covered in quilted steel, black vinyl, and red flecked Formica, glass-contained condiments stacked tidily in the center of the tables. The smells were pure diner, as was the hub-bub of the clientele. It could almost have been a movie set, complete with extras. It was perfect, pure American culture.

As she had hoped, they were seated quickly in a booth by a blonde-haired waitress named Tammy who called them both “hon”. She opened the menu and grinned as she overheard some college-aged kids arguing over whether or not they should put seventeen plays of What’s New Pussycat? into the jukebox. “I hope they don’t.” she snickered, low enough so only Tom would hear her. “It’s from a stand-up comedian’s routine. He and a friend put in What’s New Pussycat? seventeen times.”

"Seventeen times?!" Tom exclaimed. "That’s bordering on cruelty. Imagine if one had a hangover!" He took up the menu, ears pricked to catch what tune would be selected. The whole place was designed for stimulation overload. He was still marveling at the presence of a genuine juke box, let alone what was playing on it. He turned his attention to the breakfast options.

Someone had finally settled on playing some Beach Boys music, although she couldn’t quite make out which song it was. “I think I will go for some pancakes with strawberries and a side of bacon. What are you thinking? Their omelets are really good too.”

"I was considering the French Ham and Cheese sandwich, with some fruit, but I like pancakes…maybe the Cinnamon Apple pancakes with sausage."

She nodded. “Good choice. Far cry from a full English breakfast, hmm?” she teased him, remembering an interview where he’d said his super-power was getting a full English breakfast hot all at the same time. “I never was quite able to stomach beans with breakfast.”

"Oh, the beans are a vital component!" Tom joked. "And I am treating myself. I don’t eat like this regularly, believe you me! I plan to be a completely lazy ol’ bear for this trip; eat whatever I like." He grinned.

"And I intend to follow suit. Wouldn’t be any fun if I had salads all weekend just to keep up appearances." she smiled, setting her menu down now that she knew what she was getting. The waitress came back and took their orders, dropping off some ice water and glasses of orange juice in the process. "So…" Jennifer said once Tammy had returned to the kitchen. "Despite your less than auspicious beginning yesterday… how’s Chicago look now?"

"It’s much sunnier today," he quipped. "No, really, I’m enjoying it immensely." He quietly kept his enjoyment of her company to himself, but that was becoming the main feature of his vacation. He found himself staring at her again, and looked down at the menu hastily. "Thank you again, for dropping everything to show me around. It’s a lot better than going at it alone."

“Not like I had any plans other than staying home and blogging. This is vastly more interesting.” she assured him, raising her orange juice in salute. “You are definitely more talkative than my cat. And you probably have better taste in music too.”

He outright laughed at that comment. “Oh, I certainly hope so,” he exclaimed, “although she was very talkative last night. We didn’t discuss her playlist, however.”

"I think it consists mainly of the musical Cats and a few Disney songs from Aristocats," she giggled. "Possibly the soundtrack to the Lord of the Rings."

“‘Everybody wants to be a cat! “He warbled in a low voice, and giggled with her. “Oh, I haven’t seen that one in years.” He had a very odd feeling steal over him; a wanting to have moments like this last forever. It was strange, a sensation of timelessness, as if there was a blip in the relentless motion of the seconds racing past and they were alone in that little moment, a small common instant memory of them laughing in a Chicago diner. It should have been startling, but he found it to be pleasurable.

"One of their often-forgotten ones." she agreed. "Some of their less-popular films are their most beautiful, I find. My favorite is The Hunchback of Notre Dame… I mean it’s not very popular, but the animation is amazing!"

"It’s no secret that my favorite is The Jungle Book," he answered. "I like Peter Pan, also."

"Of classic Disney… I think I have to go with Lady and the Tramp." she said. "What’s your favorite ‘modern’ Disney movie? Anything from Little Mermaid onwards."

"Ohh, that’s a bit hard to decide…" He considered. "I liked the Little Mermaid, actually, but I think I have to say the Lion King."

"Lion King was gorgeous." she nodded approvingly. "I think I saw that one like ten times in the theaters. The themes in it are so universal… I mean… it’s basically Hamlet on the Serengeti." she pointed out, assuming he had heard that comparison before.

"That’s one way to look at it, yes!" he replied enthusiastically. "There are some parallel themes to them."

Their food arrived, piping hot and smelling heavenly. “Tuck in.” she said, purposely using British-ism since she figured it might be funny given her American accent and their very American surroundings.

"Good lord, this looks and smells wonderful!" he remarked, following her suggestion. The huge stack of pancakes was topped with warm sliced apples, sautéed with cinnamon and butter. With the sausage it was delicious…and the serving was massive. He was a hearty eater, but he had serious doubts about finishing it at one sitting.

She ate happily, almost giddy at being able to share something as simple as a diner breakfast with her favorite actor. Tom was so sweet and open and genuine… everything she’d seen from him in his interviews, which was part of why she adored him so in the first place. He seemed relaxed and comfortable with her, which she took as a good sign.

Finally he simply gave up. “I can’t,” he groaned. “There’s just too much, and it’s far too good!” He set down his cutlery and pushed the plate back, feeling stuffed but quite content. He really hoped to get in a lot of walking today; otherwise he was going to suffer the consequence of skimping on his workouts and indulging in these treats, and he could ill-afford that, given his upcoming projects.

“Not a problem, we can box up our leftovers and put them to good use.” she said, flagging down the waitress and asking nicely for some take-away containers. Once one was provided, she put everything into it and bagged it up. She knew exactly what to do with it. There was a homeless man who always parked himself on the corner across the street from the art museum. He never asked for money, he just sat there and sang good mornings to everyone rushing to work or school. Whenever she could, she would buy him some breakfast from the nearby McDonalds. This was infinitely better.

Tom managed to extract himself from the chair and follow Jen out of the diner after they had paid. They caught another train and emerged from the subway two blocks away from the Art Institute of Chicago. He was remarkably touched when she handed off the remains of their breakfast to an incredibly cheerful man on sitting on the corner that thanked them and sang out a joyful “Good Morning!” to them and other pedestrians.

The crowds were relatively light since it was the summertime. They were able to get into the museum quickly and head up the stairs to the Impressionists. “Here we are… this one’s one of the more famous paintings here.” she said, leading him to the huge pointillism masterpiece that was Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.

Tom stared for a long time, moving closer and then back, getting the full impact of how each tiny dot of color made up the large canvas, forming each figure, each detail from seemingly random spots. It was amazing to realize that this was all done by hand, from the artist’s mind, over a century before computer pixels. To even imagine it, without having previous reference but to see it in one’s imagination…it was astonishing!

"It’s amazing, isn’t it? The amount of control he had to have to make everything come together just right." she said. "And this is 7 feet by 10 feet… no small work. He would take smaller canvases out to the site and do studies and then bring them back and reproduce what he’d done on the master work." she said.

“It truly is amazing. Obviously I’ve seen photographs of it before, but that doesn’t really do it justice. When you’re able to examine it so closely, you get the full artistry of it…”

"And you get the sheer amount of time and effort put into it. Seurat nearly drove himself mad doing this. His personal life suffered quite a bit as a result." she nodded. "Not unusual among all of these artists… they were all so incredibly dedicated to their craft, obsessively… even destructively if you want to consider Van Gogh."

“Van Gogh had far greater troubles than artistic mania,” Tom remarked with a shrug. “Still, I’m in awe of any artist. My artistic skills are nil to nonexistent.”

"I went to school for graphic design and illustration, so I tend to geek out about this stuff. I’m very fond of the Impressionists and Neo-Impressionists." she shrugged, taking his hand and leading him around to some other pieces.

They spent a pleasant morning walking strolling from one masterpiece to another, their conversation casual but detailed. Like the other visitors they just seemed to glide from exhibit to exhibit in their own little cloud, absorbed in their comments and observations. When Jen suggested they might take a break and grab a light lunch before heading to the zoo, he actually was a bit hungry.

"There’s a Panera Bread down the street. I like their Greek salad quite a lot. That and a half a sandwich should keep us going through Lincoln Park. We can pick up some water bottles while we’re there too." she said, heading across Michigan Avenue, his hand still in hers. It was just late enough in the day that the lunch rush had cleared out and it was mostly college students from the art school hanging about. Tom’s appearance caused a teensy bit of conversation as a small group of girls caught sight of him and started trying to figure out if he was himself or just a lookalike.

He hurried across the street with her, not wanting to be caught in the spotlight. Dear lord that would just ruin this whole getaway! He wondered if it might be better to not be so out and about the town, but he didn’t want to disappoint Jennifer or make her feel useless. He had asked her to show him around Chicago, after all. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t really discussed paying her for her efforts; it had become something more than simple tourism. He tried not the think of last night as they walked on, hand and hand. He was still uncertain what was happening between them, or at least what direction his own heart was leading him.

Those girls turned out to be the only flutter of attention they got, and they had moved past too quickly for a positive ID to be made. At Panera, she got her Greek salad and a half of a chicken César sandwich. Together, they sat down on one of the couches with a long table in front of them. She leaned back, glad to be off of her feet for a moment.

Tom turned his attention to the roasted turkey and avocado BLT he had chosen, letting Jen relax, but try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes from her for long. Shit, was he being an idiot? He certainly hoped not. Even admitting it had been too long a time, he really didn’t relish the idea of a relationship of anything beyond platonic at the moment. Things had been such a mess before that he didn’t want to complicate things now, but he wasn’t a complete fool. He was on vacation, for goodness’ sake; couldn’t he just enjoy it for what it was?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jen head to the zoo and then to Lake Michigan for some fun!

They ate in companionable silence for a few moments. Finally, she looked over to him curiously. “I didn’t even think to ask… do you like animals? I tend to forget that some people think zoos are just for kids. If there’s something else you’d rather do, our plans are not set in stone.”

"No, no, I’m fine with the zoo…it’s not a problem, I just wondered…is it too much walking for you? Really, I don’t mind whatever you choose for our itinerary, but I don’t want to put you through any trouble, either. I know this was all very impromptu."

"I could do with the exercise. So long as we don’t go sprinting about the place, I should be fine." she assured him, well aware that, as a big girl, even just walking around at a good clip was a workout for her. "I just hope you don’t feel like I’m slowing you down. Those long legs of yours carry you twice the distance that mine do!" she smiled, teasing him and flirting with him a little at the same time.

"Well, I was planning a run along the lake shore later," he joked. "Honestly, I don’t mind the pace." He smiled at her, a genuine smile. She honestly didn’t seem to see him as anything other than a man, without the facade of celebrity. She was real in a way that he had missed, and maybe that was part of the attraction for him. It was more than physical—not, he knew, that she was lacking in that department either; on the contrary, he found her curves, her full breasts and hips and backside, all of her body to be feminine and very attractive. And maybe, just maybe, he could keep it to just that, an attraction he had possessed from before he was in his teens but didn’t always have to act upon.

"You can have your run. I’ll sit on a bench and watch." she laughed, remembering his brief scene in Suburban Shootout where he was jogging in a tank top and very tight shorts. "All kidding aside, I hope you like the zoo. I go as often as I can. Sometimes I’ll hang out and draw the animals. Other times I just like to watch them. We have some very pretty critters… though my favorite is our Amur Leopard."

"Aren’t they endangered?" Tom asked. "And I’d like to see your drawings some time."

"Critically. There’s fewer than fifty left in the wild. And something like twenty of them in captivity." she nodded. "They’re a sub-species of the African leopard that we usually think of… but Amur leopards are smaller and have a much thicker coat because they are native to Russia and parts of China where it gets very cold." she said. "I watch a lot of Animal Planet… and I tend to retain random facts like that."

He nodded. “It’s quite sad, isn’t it, that there are so few left. But we’ll get to see one, alive, at the zoo?”

"Yes. We have a male Amur leopard. He’s getting on in years and will mostly likely be napping. But he’s well cared for and quite a handsome kitty." she nodded. "He’s been part of their breeding program with other zoos for a long time. I think he’s got cubs in ten other zoos."

"Wow!" Tom exclaimed. "That’s impressive. I guess they have to keep him busy, for the sake of the rest of them. It would be a shame to lose them all." He picked a bit of avocado-covered turkey from his sandwich and nibbled pensively.

"We’re bringing them back slowly but surely. I think at its lowest, the population was down to like fifteen total back in the nineties." she smiled. "It’s an uphill climb, but progress is being made." she said, pushing the olives from her salad to one side. "Sorry if I’m being a tad preachy… wildlife and animal welfare is my pet cause, if you’ll pardon the pun. I know you’ve done a lot of work for UNICEF. I donated when you tweeted about the children in Syria." she admitted.

'Well, bless you for that. If celebrity has any positive uses, it can make an impact via social media.” He took up his water bottle, turning it in his fingers. “Getting involved in UNICEF and causes like that, it truly puts things into perspective. I'm been incredibly fortunate just to have been born where I was, into the society that I was; there are so many people that have so much less.”

She nodded, taking a quick bite of her sandwich and putting it down, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before speaking again. “And it’s not insurmountable, even though it must feel like it. Those of us with a little extra should do what we can to help those who need a little help. I know my $10 wasn’t much… but pair with the $10 each of hundreds of other people… it made a difference.”

"Exactly," he replied, face brightening. "It has to start with oneself, being kind and generous to oneself, but every little part combines to become a part of something greater. It can create such a huge positive impact, it’s amazing to witness."

"On a much smaller scale, I’ve seen it happen. I’ve spent most of my adult life either working or volunteering at various animal shelters. I’ve seen how people can pull together to help. Back in New Jersey, where I grew up, we had someone abandon a dog at the shelter overnight. Poor thing had to have been hit by a car or something. His pelvis was broken in three places, one leg was broken, cracked ribs… plus he was starving and had a nasty case of mange. But he was so happy to see people when we showed up, he still wagged his tail and tried to give us kisses. We were able to rally the community together and raise the money to get him urgent medical care. It took him six months, but he recovered and got adopted by the shelter manager. She named him Turnpike."

"Turnpike…What a great name!" he laughed. "I’m partial to dogs, I admit. They tend to bring out the best in those who do care. They’re just naturally optimistic."

"Dogs are great. Just too much work for me by myself. I’m too lazy to walk a dog every day. And in the winter here when it’s forty below and snowing like mad? Forget it. I will happily scoop my cat’s box instead and stay inside." she laughed. "I grew up with dogs though… my dad used to breed and train Dobermans. So there were always dogs and puppies about for me to play with.”

"There was no lack of dogs to romp about with when I was a kid. My uncle kept a stable, so there were horses, too, and there were always dogs around." He smiled at the memory. "So, to answer your question from before, yes, I do like animals. Most of them, anyway!" he grinned. "I have a healthy respect for them, too, especially the wild ones.”

"I’ve always had a certain predisposition for cats, even though I never owned one until I was out on my own. My mother is very allergic, so I never had a kitty when I was a kid. But cats always liked me and I found them so sweet and comforting… it was inevitable that I would get a cat when I moved out on my own."

"There was one particular cat that I was very fond of as a kid. His name was Orlando," Tom remarked. "No lack of both cats and dogs for me as a kid. The horses, though, they scared me to death! No, really they did," he added, seeing her expression. "They were huge, massive beasts! I was certain they’d just gallop right over me."

She laughed. “I guess War Horse was a rude awakening for you, hmm? I hear darling Joey was a bit of a brat.”

"Joey did not do much to alter my opinion, but I did learn to enjoy horses and riding, to love it, actually, when I did ‘War Horse’.

"I’ve seen clips of you on horses for Hollow Crown too and you look very comfortable in the saddle." she blushed and looked down. "Dear lord, that sounded dirty! I swear, I did not mean for that to be innuendo."

Tom burst out laughing at that. Never mind that he knew he was blushing, or that it had sounded dirty and he had liked that it did. “I did enjoy those shots, actually, although being on a horse in armor is not very comfortable, believe me. But there were some wonderful shots of just galloping across the fields; those were really a delight.”

"Yes, from the opening of Henry V… you on the white horse. Prince Charming had nothing on you in those shots." she grinned, tipping her water bottle to him in a fair approximation of a toast. "We seem to be done with our respective lunches… what say we go catch the bus and head over to the zoo and my beloved leopard?"

"Sounds like an excellent plan," he replied, grinning back.

In short order, they were on a CTA bus bound for the Lincoln Park Zoo. It was more crowded now, with weekend shoppers and tourists and families on outings, but they were still able to find a place sit towards the back of the bus. “Watch your head.” she warned him since the far back had lower clearance for the passengers. “Here… you should get a good view out the window here.” she said, giving him the window seat this time.

Tom managed to fold his legs in politely, so he wasn’t knocking the back of the seat in front of him, and he did have a great view of the streets from that vantage point. With the afternoon sun shining, he could see that Chicago was an active and verdant city.

"Forming any opinions so far?" she asked as they rode along. They had a good twenty minutes before they would reach the zoo, so she felt it was all right to open up some more conversation. The smallish seats of the bus did require her to sit very close to him… her hip was encroaching a bit on his allocated space, if she was entirely honest with herself, but he didn’t seem to mind.

"Quite a few," he replied. He blushed when he realized she meant about the scenery, while his thoughts had been on an entirely different subject. Good god, man, behave or you’ll embarrass yourself, he told himself sternly. He cleared his throat. “The, ah, landscaping is wonderful, and the buildings…just amazing. It’s all very tidy; modern urban planning.”

"Well most of the city is pretty modern… especially when compared with the older cities on the East Coast…. and very modern indeed compared to London!. The entire city practically had to be rebuilt in the late 1800s because of a huge fire that destroyed most of the city. London’s Great Fire was far earlier than that, after all." she smiled. "In fact, that tall, white building we passed back there right before the big Macy’s… that’s Chicago Water Tower and is one of the very few buildings that survived the fire."

"I did notice that the whole city seems to be mapped out on a grid. You have these alleyways, though; there are lanes in London that are narrower, and they’re proper streets there."

She nodded, smiling. “I remember all too well. Both times I visited I thanked god and all his angels that I was not going to be expected to drive at all. Not because of the whole wrong-side-of-the-car thing… but because of how narrow some of the streets were! We stayed in Bayswater, at a hostel there… and I still don’t know how our shuttle buses even managed to get there.”

"Narrower buses, I suspect," he said with a grin. "The alleys here appear to be just for service vehicles to get about. And all the trash bins are stashed in your alleys?"

"Yes, the dumpsters and trash receptacles are always kept in the alleys so the trucks can pick them up without interfering with the flow of traffic out on the main streets. That’s also where most people’s garages open into if they have one." she nodded. "I guess that’s the good thing about a city that was mostly built after cars were invented… the planning was set with vehicle traffic in mind."

He nodded in approval. “Quite efficient for driving. It was the alleys that got me turned around yesterday, I think: they look like streets. “

"Ah, yes… that would do it!" she agreed. "Well, now you know the secret. Don’t go blabbing to everyone, okay?" The bus pulled onto the inner side of Lake Shore Drive, along the luxury high rise apartments that banked the lake.

"Mum’s the word, then. It is a pretty city, though, too—all these variation in architecture. The skyscraper was invented here, wasn’t it?" There were a dizzying array of style on display, from brick edifices with ornate tiles and ceramic inlays to towers of metal and glass, and everything in between.

"Yep. And it was only relatively recently that the Sears Tower was surpassed as the tallest building in the world. It’s still the tallest building in the US, but I think some place in Singapore has a taller spire." she nodded. "That’s another thing… we still call it the Sears Tower. We don’t care that it changed its name to Willis Tower. It’s still the Sears Tower to us."

"Something to be said for tradition," he laughed. He felt a sudden almost giddy happiness. He was just sitting on a public bus, chatting with this lovely lady, like any other fellow would, enjoying the sights and touring a city. It was so deliciously normal, and something he so needed, just knowing what kind of media attention he was in store for in the upcoming months. He really felt quite grateful to her for being so…well, normal, he supposed. She professed to be a fan, and he knew he had a great many of them, and most of them who had approached him had been very polite and respectful, but this was a bit different from he had encountered before. More than just being friendly, she was being helpful and completely comfortable. There was no denying he found her attractive, and more than just physically. No, her whole demeanor put him at ease; he found that he was even flirting with her, in a far more familiar way than he did in public, usually. The more dispassionate side of his brain was wondering what he was playing at.

They arrived at the zoo and she led the way down a flower-lined path to the west entrance gate. As a free zoo, there were no ticket takers and the gates were wide open. The first thing the greet them was the huge harbor seal pavilion, with an open air tank for the seals, several of which were cavorting happily in the water.

"Ho-oh, look at them go!" Tom cheered at the sleek, dark torpedo shapes shot around the deep pool and sloshed about the rocky island in its center. A few were lounging around like glamorous sunbathers on the rocks, and the snort and hiss of the swimming seals were answered with lazy flaps of their flippers.

She laughed as one seal blew water playfully at one of his cohorts and was rebuffed with a flipper slap. “C’mon… I want to show you the cats.” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him along the path. The lions’ outdoor exhibit was next in line, housing one male lion and two females. The females were snuggled together under a shade tree, lazily grooming each other. The enormous male lion was perched on top of the rocks, looking out over the people with a distinct air of superiority.

"Looks like one of those fellows outside of the Art Institute," Tom observed. "He a lot more comfortable than the ones in the wild, I must say."

"Well, he never has to fight off any rival males. You should hear him get going around feeding time. He roars incessantly. It’s truly frightening!" she nodded, still holding his hand casually. She liked the feeling of it in hers. He was warm and gentle and something about the sheer elegance of his grip fascinated her. She knew that he was very strong despite his slender frame and couldn’t help but wonder what those hands might feel like elsewhere on her. She cleared her throat, blushing at her own train of thought. "The other cats might be on the inside enclosures… follow me."

"Lead on!" They made their way indoors. The structure was designed almost with Art Nouveau flair, with a wide tiled avenue lined with display enclosures, like massive shadow boxes. There were rocky structures, like cliffs, built along the walls for the cats to climb and relax on, Thin but incredibly strong steel rods ran from the top to bottom of each compartment, allowing to for the best view of the magnificent felines while protecting everyone. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of wild cats.

In his cage, snoozing placidly on one of the rocks, was the Amur leopard. He was smaller than most people expected and his coat was very fuzzy rather than sleek like an African leopard’s was. “There’s my handsome boy.” Jennifer cooed at him once they were in front of his cage. He seemed to hear her and looked up briefly before yawning and stretching. He hopped down from his perch and began to rub on the bars of the cage. When he walked, he had a slight, but noticeable limp. “He has hip dysplasia… but they have him on good diet supplemented with some mild pain relief.” she informed Tom so he wouldn’t be alarmed.

"Been through a lot, the old gent, eh?" Tom murmured. He felt a little sad, knowing how few of this kind of creature were left in the world. The leopard just rubbed and blinked at them. Tom reminded himself that this cat had lived his entire life in captivity, and had sired many cubs, in the effort to preserve them. Maybe one of those cubs, or their cubs after them, will be able to be returned to the wild, into a safe and protected environment.

The leopard made soft puffing noise in their direction… almost a growl, but clearly there was no threat involved. Jennifer smiled. “And hello to you too, handsome.” she nodded. “That’s called chuffing. Big cats make that noise as a sort of greeting.”

"He knows you; you must visit here often."

She blushed and nodded. “Last time I was here, I stood here for about two hours, just drawing him and taking pictures. He eventually got used to me. Plus, I sort know cat body language and how to make them feel at ease… so I was able to sort of give him the right signals to let him know I was friendly. Slow blinking, keeping a respectful distance, not being loud, talking to him in a soft voice… things like that.” she said, moving over to the large field notes card on the rail. “See here… average life expectancy for a captive leopard is 18 years… and he’s 23 years old. So, he’s a very old gent.” she said, mimicking Tom’s accent gently.

Tom flashed a sideways smile at her attempt at his London accent. “And he’s had a productive life,” he added. “With you and so many others visiting, at least he’s not lonely.”

"Not at all. He and all the other animals are very well cared for by their keepers. And they’re very good about keeping the public from annoying the animals. I’ve seen them toss out idiots for trying to throw things between the bars or for making obnoxious noises at the animals." she said. They moved to look at the tigers, servals, snow leopard, cougar, and lynx.

Each one of the cats was beautiful, almost regal. Not all of them were fully visible, which was good, in Tom’s opinion. He remembered sleeping in what felt like too flimsy a structure in a land where such creatures roamed freely, the unseen presence a humbling reminder of how much humanity had encroached on the territories of these now rare and wild animals.

Once they were finished with the big cats, they wandered through the rest of the zoo, alternating between being outside in the heat to look at giraffes and rhinos and antelopes… and going inside to air-conditioned buildings to see smaller animals like snakes and birds and a diminutive little sand cat.

It was astonishing that this entire zoo was free; anyone could simply stroll through the gates. Obviously it was supported through private donors, but still, to have so extensive and accessible a menagerie near the center of downtown was an incredible resource. There was a sizable crowd of patrons milling about, too, as if it was simply another part of a park. In fact, it was part of a park, Tom found out, He understood why Jen often visited; he would probably do the same.

Once they had gone through the farm section of the zoo and seen the cows and horses and sheep and other such critters, they emerged out by another bus stop. It was just after 5 and the zoo was closing, so it was time to head someplace else anyway. “So, that ends my agenda for the day. What do you feel like doing now?”

"Ah, well…" Caught off-guard, Tom considered. "I hadn’t really thought about it."

She laughed. “No worries. I have been distracting you all day with art and animals. I have an idea though. You don’t get seasick, do you?” she asked, the question seeming out of the blue, but there was definitely method in her madness for the moment.

Tom looked puzzled. “Not that I know of, no.”

“Excellent. Let’s cross the street and catch the 151 back to the Loop and we can hop on the 29 easily.” she grinned, taking his hand and leading him across the street when the traffic cleared. “You’ll like this. I promise. And it’ll be less noisy than my previous idea of Howl At the Moon. And we can always do that tomorrow night, if we want.” she said, remember her suggestion from the day before.

"And this has to do with my seaworthiness, in what way?" he asked as they made their way to the stop. "Or should I just enjoy the anticipation?"

"Just enjoy. I mean you know there’s a huge lake nearby so I think you can draw a few possibilities, yeah?" she teased him. The bus came quickly and they were off again. This time, they sat closer to the front of the bus in the first set of forward-facing seats. She gave him the window seat again and slid in close, putting her arm around the back of his seat to try and minimize how much of her was jutting into the aisle.

"Well, I assume we’ll be on or near a body of water, from your clues." Her proximity was ruining his concentration, and he didn’t care. He just hoped the idyll lasted. Enjoy the moment, he thought. Enjoy the anticipation.

“Good guess, my brilliant boy.” she teased him, adopting a tone not unlike that of Falstaff regarding Prince Hal. The bus lumbered its way back to the main hub of Chicago and they switched to another bus, this one smaller than the articulated one they had been on. Now that it was past 5pm, most of the other commuters were college-aged or young twenty-somethings out heading to various bars or clubs.

Soon enough, Navy Pier swung into view, the gigantic Ferris wheel already lit up and gleaming against the sky. Ships of all shapes and sizes were moored at the many docks and people swarmed all over the place.

"Ah, ha, we’re going to going to Navy Pier," Tom declared triumphantly. He didn’t know a single thing about the place, of course, but it was on the lake and it looked like a hot spot of activity.

“Good job on reading the sign.” she laughed softly, getting up when the bus pulled in and leading him out to the walk, trying not to lose him in the shuffle of people. Once out in the humid air, she took his hand. “Best if we stay close so we don’t lose each other… considering neither of us has the other’s cell phone number.”

"Yeah, we should remedy that," he remarked, gripping her hand tightly. There were a lot of people milling around, and a few stared up at him as they moved through the throng. He hoped no-one would look too closely and recognize him. There were some drawbacks to his height; he was too tall to fully blend into a crowd.

She led him around the main part of the pier and the outdoor lots for dining around to where many of the ships were docked. “OK… so… we have two choices here. We could have dinner at Bubba Gump and then get tickets to one of the SeaDog boats.” she said pointing to a small fleet of large speedboats. “Or we get tickets to have dinner on the Windy.” she said, pointing to one of the magnificent tall ships, a replica of an 18th century sloop. “Either way, we will get to see the fireworks from out on the water.”

Tom gaped at her, most definitely surprised. “Oh, my god,” he exclaimed. “Wow!” He shook his head. “That’s not an easy choice….” He looked up at the sails and rigging of the replica tall ship, debating. “Let’s take the ship; it looks magnificent!”

She nodded. “All right, then. Let’s go get tickets for their dinner and fireworks cruise.” she said, squeezing his hand. Part of her was nervous about his choice. From what she’d heard these dinner cruises were decidedly romantic in nature and she hoped he wouldn’t be weirded out by that whole vibe. Once tickets were purchased with a sailing time in an hour, they proceeded to walk down the way, looking at the other ships. “There’s a theatre up ahead too… the Chicago Shakespeare Company is based here.” she said.

"Ooooo," Tom purred. "You said the right word: Shakespeare!" He threw back his head, laughing. "As much as I would like to check that out, I better not. First, I’m supposed to be incognito here, and being in a theater, especially a Shakespearean one; that’s asking for trouble. Second, this is a vacation, and I’m gearing up for Shakespeare soon, so I’ll avoid anything resembling work…for the moment. It’s not really my strong point," he admitted.

"Oh I doubt we could get tickets anyway. They’ve sold out their whole summer season." she smiled. "I just thought I’d mention it. They are doing Midsummer Night’s Dream this summer, I think. I know I’ve seen ads on the CTA for it."

"So you like Shakespeare?" Tom asked casually. The ships were absolutely stunning even docked by the massive cement dock on which the modern entertainment complex was built.

"I do. Although I’m afraid I’m not terribly familiar with his lesser-known works. I told you last night that I had no idea what Coriolanus was about. But, if you want a no work-talk rule, I won’t make you explain it to me." she said, smiling.

Tom chuckled. “I’ll do my best to avoid the lecture, and I promise I’ll not recite lines during my stay in Chicago. At least, not lines from Coriolanus.”

"I wouldn’t recognize them anyway. But feel free to quote any other work, Shakespeare or otherwise." she smiled. "I have that app that you did some recordings for… The Love Book? Oh man, some of those poems are amazing when you recite them!"

Tom shrugged. “I love words, and I love poetry,” he said simply. “Bless you for saying that, though. Maybe when we get back to the hotel, I can read you something; a bedtime story, maybe,” he joked.

"Ha! Come to think of it, my Kindle is in my purse and I do have the complete works on there. So, I guess I lied. I do have my pocket sonnets with me." she laughed as they rounded the furthest point of Navy Pier and began the trek back on the other side, past more moored tall ships.

"Heh! Shakespeare for all!" Tom proclaimed. The trek around the dock was a fair good jaunt; that with the walking around the zoo made up for his missing his normal exercise. It was hot and humid with yesterday’s rain a lingering memory, but he didn’t mind it.

“Frankly, I think we should have The Complete Works of William Shakespeare in every hotel room instead of The Bible or the Book of Mormon.” she laughed. “It certainly would do far more to relieve boredom.”

"That would certainly make my stays in them brighter," Tom retorted with a wide grin. "Truth is, though, usually I just want to unwind when I get to my rooms. Pretty dull, really."

"Not dull at all. That’s exactly what you are supposed to do in a hotel room." she said, squeezing his fingers and wisely not saying anything about how she had begun her time staying in the hotel room. They rounded the front of Navy Pier again and found themselves back in front of The Windy, which was just starting to board its passengers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fireworks on Lake Michigan

The long wooden schooner bobbed gently by the dock, the rigging towering above them in the dusk. Tom noted that it was mostly couples boarding the ship, although a few groups of friends dotted the boarding queue. After they were all assembled on the deck, they launched and the ship set out to the open water of Lake Michigan. They were given a tour around and then escorted below deck for dinner.

She kept close to him, noting a bit self-consciously that most of the other people were a bit more dressed up than she was. Tom looked amazing as always, having opted for the blue version of his white-shirt-of-sex. Even with jeans, he looked polished and incredibly handsome. Her pink tee shirt seemed a bit under-dressed. Ah well, at least she had makeup on and had remembered to put some pearl earrings in.

They had made a full plate’s selection from the lavish buffet of cheese, meat and other delicacies set out below deck, gathered drinks from the bar and found a cozy corner in which to sit and nibble. “Everything all right?” Tom asked.

"Yeah… I just didn’t realize this was so… well, not fancy. But no one else is wearing jeans and a tee shirt like I am." she said, nibbling on a piece of gouda cheese. "It’s fine… I just feel like I should have thought of that earlier."

"I’m wearing jeans," Tom pointed out. "And it’s fine, what you’re wearing. I mean, it looks fine to me. I’d say we could just leave if you’re not comfortable, but, ah, it’s a bit of long swim back."

She laughed, cheeks pinking. “That it is. And I wouldn’t insist on leaving even if we were docked. It’s fine, really.” she said, placing her hand on his. “I’m glad you’re having a good time in Chicago so far, I really am.”

Tom felt his face color; he hoped he could put that down to the drink. “I’ve had really good company,” he answered quietly. “Can I say again how much I appreciate you taking the time to be my impromptu guide? It really has made the entire trip.”

"My pleasure, really. I mean how many people get to show their celebrity crush around their hometown?" she said. "I adore your work and I’ve always wanted to get to spend some one-on-one time with you."

He full out blushed at that. “I hope I’ve lived up to your expectations,” he replied, chuckling softly. “Thank you for that compliment on my work, but, if you don’t mind me asking, why the desire to spend some one-on-one time?”

She looked down a bit shyly and then back up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Well… you’re always charming and sweet in group interviews and fan events. But there’s a certain intentness when you do one-on-one interviews and I was always thinking it would be nice to be the subject of that attention.’

Tom’s eyes sparkled in the low cabin light as his face bloomed in a full smile. “You want to interview me?” he teased. “Hm, okay…ask away.” He leaned back, taking a long sip from his glass.

"All right… although, this isn’t a real interview actually. I mean, feel free to ask questions back if you like." she said, twisting a lock of her hair. "You mentioned in an earlier interview that you thought you were lost in the woods once when you were a kid. What happened?"

"Oh, wow, starting with childhood recollections, eh? I was on holiday when I was…about eight or so, I think…I didn’t keep up and kept wandering off the path, and I went a bit too far and found myself alone in the middle of a wooded area. I of course thought I had been abandoned in this vast wasteland and the there was nothing but trees everywhere. I was certain that I was going to starve or be eaten by wolves or something; I mean, my imagination was working overtime and I sort of panicked. I cry when I’m scared, so I just sort of flopped down in the brush and bawled my head off. It was silly, since I wasn’t even lost, really, and the others weren’t too far away. They found me soon enough, but I was convinced it was hours and hours and they had been so cross with me for being a slowpoke that they just left. I had never felt so alone before."

"Awww…!" she cooed, managing to sound both sympathetic and amused at the same time. "Poor little Thomas! What were you like as a little boy?"

Tom shook his head slowly. “I dunno, like any other little boy, I suppose,” he answered.

"Obnoxious and loud?" she suggested, laughing. "I’m an only child and I didn’t get step-brothers until I was a teenager. So my experience with little boys is limited to classmates."

"Oh, probably! I had plenty of tussles with my sisters and that entire sibling thing; bickering, arguing over the telly, that sort of nonsense. It was a normal childhood, honestly; nothing unusual."

"OK, normal, if perhaps a bit privileged. Middle class families don’t send their sons to Eton, after all." she pointed out. "Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. OK, so… what was your favorite subject in school? Not acting-related."

"Ah, well, that depends on when. I enjoyed sports a lot in primary school, but subjects? I guess…History? Yeah, probably History more than any other, although I liked Literature, too."

She nodded as though that confirmed what she suspected might be his answer. “So, OK… um… what’s your favorite thing to do when you aren’t working? You know, if you have a whole day to yourself with no obligations… what do you do?”

"Other than sleep? And really, I can’t remember the last time that’s happened, before this vacation," he joked. "No, probably go for a run, watch some movies or read or listen to music. Go for long walks. If I can find anyone up for a game of table tennis, then that, maybe. Visit friends and family; that sort of thing. I wouldn’t say I’m a homebody, because I’m not, but I’m probably a lot like anyone else on holiday."

"Yes, I’ve heard that you like table tennis and are quite good at it. If we find facilities for a game, I’d be happy to play a few rounds with you." she offered.

"Oho, now you’ve done it! I’ll hold you to that!" Tom took another sip from his glass.

"I would expect nothing less!" she laughed. "OK… let’s see. All the films you’ve done so far… what’s been your favorite to work on?"

"All of them! No, hard to say. Each of them has their own memorable moments. I just finished up one in Detroit, and it was just so cool to do. Obviously I’m very fond of Loki, and I was thrilled to be chosen to be in ‘Thor’ and ‘The Avengers’ , all the Marvel films. I had a lot of fun doing a film with Joanna Hogg called ‘Unrelated’; I was fresh out of drama school then, it felt like spring break, in a way."

"Oh, Oakley, he was a naughty piece of work, wasn’t he? Oh, that was my other question!" she exclaimed. "I was watching Unrelated a few weeks ago and there are two instances where one of the other characters calls Oakley ‘Tom’ or ‘Thomas’. There’s been some debate among your fans as to whether these were mistakes and just kept in because they were the best takes otherwise… or if Oakley is just some kind of nickname and his real name is Tom, since it’s Oakley’s father who calls him ‘Thomas’ and Anna calls him ‘Tom’."

"Oh, you’ve seen it, then! Wow, well, yeah, those were continuity errors, really. Joanna is very loose about scripting, and we often would just wing the dialogue; all improv. And yeah, it would be nice to claim that Oakley and I had the same name, but no, those were not intentional."

She giggled at the idea of poor Joanna having to agonize over whether to use a great take with a flubbed line in it or a lesser take with the right lines. “I thought it was a great movie. I liked Archipelago too. I think the only film of yours that took time to grow on me was Deep Blue Sea.”

"Really?" Tom remarked, genuinely surprised. "What was it about that one, then?"

"I think it was because Freddie’s temper kind of put me off. It seemed so out of left field sometimes. Subsequent viewings helped and I grew to understand him a bit more. But I identified more strongly with Hester from the get-go and I was a bit appalled at Freddie for walking out on her when she was so emotionally fragile. So that colored my view of him a bit until I took his side into consideration." she explained. "He seemed to get so much joy out of his service record, on the surface that, at first, it escaped my notice that he’s got a fair dose of PTSD. Plus, his personality is not one that does will with idleness."

"No, it doesn’t, plus you’re right on about the PTSD: many airmen lost so many fellow fighters during the war, and many a soldier came back not knowing how deeply the experience had scarred them. Freddie’s also a bit of a drunk, too, and he simply can’t handle complicated emotions like love. The film’s a little different from the play, but not much."

She nodded, taking a sip from her glass. “I didn’t even know it was a play first. Shows what I know.” she laughed softly. “Now, really, I didn’t mean for this to turn into an interview session… I was aiming more for equal conversation. So… is there anything you… want to know? So long as it’s not a math problem, I can probably help.”

"You’re safe from me on the mathematics; I’m rubbish at it," Tom said. "I know you didn’t mean for this to be an interview; I was teasing. Not all that amusing, I guess. It’s only that I’m not used to this whole ‘celebrity’ thing; it’s a very strange experience. I mean, I’ve lived and still live, so far as I know, a fairly normal life, albeit a comfortable one. I’ve always gotten along well with people, but there are times when I just want to have a normal, quiet moment, away from the limelight…like this trip, for instance. I don’t like being alone, though, and then out of the blue, the first person I meet in Chicago is you. I was being an ill-tempered, rude boy and you were so kind and helpful, and you played it pretty cool there, not letting on that you were a fan…It’s been a relief in a way. So, thank you again, Jennifer." He raised his glass to her. "Now, you’re right, enough about me. Tell me about you. You said you’re not from Chicago originally?"

She blushed at his frank praise, raising her glass to him in turn and smiling. “Oh… I’m not terribly interesting, I’m afraid… and I suffer by comparison. But yeah, I moved out to Chicago about ten years ago. I wasn’t having much luck finding steady work in New Jersey and I thought moving to a large city would be a good idea. New York was closer, but a bit too big for someone starting out… so I chose Chicago.” she explained. “I grew up in the Southern New Jersey and Philadelphia area. My parents and most of my family are all still there.”

“Did you have any friends in Chicago? I imagine that would have been lonely.”

"I had a few friends. People I’d met on the internet through various fandoms I was involved in, Lord of the Rings being a major one." she nodded. "So I wasn’t completely on my own. And what about you? Have you pretty much always lived in London? Outside of temporary residencies while filming?"

"Yes, to me London is home, no matter where I’ve been or for how long."

"I’ve been wanting to go back. I haven’t been since 2000 and I loved it then." she nodded. "I went to the theatre so often during that trip. Saw Phantom of the Opera, Les Miz, Notre Dame de Paris, Reduced Shakespeare Company, Oliver…"

Tom’s face brightened. “Right, you mentioned last night that you’d been there; with school, was it? Did the theater circuit, eh?”

"First time I went was in 1996 and that was with school. When I went in 2000, it was on my own, although I was staying with a friend who was going to University of London. We were both huge musical theatre buffs, so yeah, we did the musical rounds." she nodded.

"I might have been with you in attending a few of those performances. Wouldn’t that have been ironic?"

She laughed outright. “I’ve considered that… you were in RADA at the time and we were staying in that area. I’ve often wondered if I was in the same pub as you at some point and had no clue.”

"That’s even more probable," he replied. The sun had set, the dark sky now joined with the dark horizon of the water visible through the port holes. The passengers had been filtering up onto the deck, and they set down their glasses and followed suit. There was a cool breeze across the lake, and the Chicago skyline was a glittering display in the distance.

"Ahh… now that’s a pretty sight." she said, curling her arms under her chest for some warmth, admiring the lights and the stars above. The moon was three-quarters of the way full and cast enough light on them that even once the ship dimmed its lights, they could still see each other.

"It really is," Tom remarked. Chicago’s skyline was beautiful, especially at night, and even more so from the deck of the Windy. "This was an excellent suggestion, Jennifer. Should we find a good spot for the fireworks?" He took the opportunity to reach an arm around her shoulders and guide her toward the benches. It wasn’t cold, but it was cooler than during the day. He wished he had brought a jacket to drape her in, but it occurred to him that his own arms were the best substitute. He just hoped that didn’t come across as him making a play for her.

"Yes, let’s." she agreed, walking with him, trying not to go giddy at the feel of his arm around her. Music began to play over the ship’s speakers and everyone settled in their spots to watch the skies. She stood against the rail of the ship, leaning against him gently. Partially it was because she was a bit cold… and partially just because he both smelled and felt wonderful.

Something went still inside him; a sudden certainty. It was a small gesture in just a moment of time, while they were waiting for the fireworks to start, the sky clear and the water dappled with moonlight, the feeling of her resting back on him as he rubbed her arms absently to warm them. It was a trust, as if they had known each other for much longer, and Tom knew without a doubt that whatever happened would be all right between them. He simply let go of his worry, his second-guessing himself, and just held her as the sky lit up.

She smiled, watching the fireworks. She’d always liked fireworks ever since she was a small child and her joy in them had not abated since reaching adulthood. She absently wound her fingers with his, feeling warm and secure in his arms, even forgetting that they had only met a day ago and that he was a famous movie star.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE THERE BE SMUT!

The fireworks ended with applause and it felt that the ship returned to the dock quicker than it had set sail. Tom and Jen didn’t really say much during the return trip, other than the normal small talk of how wonderful the display was and such. Without the need to verbalize it, they kept up the physical contact. Tom bought Jennifer a hoodie after they disembarked—“As a souvenir,” he insisted, but his hand found hers as they headed back to the Palmer.

As they headed into the hotel and up to their floor, she cuddled into the hoodie, squeezing his fingers. The bright lights of the hallway seemed to install a bit more reality upon her and she began to gear herself up for saying goodnight and parting at their doors. And she knew full well that she would not be able to sleep until she’d done something about the ache between her legs.

They were standing outside their rooms, side by side doors, and he didn’t let go of her hand. Instead he turned toward her, not quite touching, their difference in height glaringly obvious. He looked at her for moment, searching her face for something, or perhaps nothing specific, just looking at her. Leaning over, he kissed her, gently, on the corner of her lips. It was feather-soft, light, his lips just brushing hers, and then he stood up, quiet. “Jennifer,” he asked, “would…you like to come in? Or…we could unlock that door inside.”

"I… I’ll come in. If you like." she nodded, voice low and soft, as though she was afraid that speaking too loudly might somehow ruin this moment. Was he maybe… asking her to his bed? Oh god, please… please let that be what he was really asking.

He just nodded, dropping her hand to fish the key card out his pocket and open the door. He held it open for her, ushering her in. He flicked the lights on and tossed the contents of his pockets on the nearest surface. He waved around the room. “Sit wherever you like, or again, we can open the door here if you want anything from your room.” He paused, looking a little awkward. “I just need to duck into the loo, and I should take care of some quick texts, if that’s okay.”

"Go right ahead. No hurry." she smiled reassuringly. Once he was in the washroom with the door shut, she dug into her backpack, fishing out her comb and running it quickly through her curls to put them to rights. The day’s activities and the wind while on the ship had tousled them quite a lot. There was no mirror, so she couldn’t check her makeup, but she did briefly pull up her shirt and adjust her breasts in her bra, making sure they were dividing and conquering, as the saying went. If this night was going the way she hoped it was, she was incredibly thankful that she had shaved the night before.

After using the toilet, Tom regarded his reflection as he washed his hands. His hair was a tousled mess, so he quickly swept it back with a comb. The smudge of scruff that had appeared on his jaw and chin he simply ignored: there wasn’t any time for a proper shave, anyway, and he didn’t want to keep Jen waiting.

She shoved her things back in her bag and stowed the bag at the foot of the bed. Once that was done, she was a bit at a loss as for what to do. It wasn’t like she could go poking through the drawers or his suitcase. She glanced about and giggled a little to herself when she saw his clothes from the previous day balled up on the floor. She bent and picked them up, shaking them out and folding them neatly, setting them on the chair.

Tom scrolled through his messages quickly. “Did you want anything? We can order something for the room, if you like. This won’t take a minute. Make yourself at home.” He slipped his shoes off by the closet.

"No, I’m good for now. The food on the ship was delicious." she said, smoothing a hand over the newly folded shirt before turning to face him. "Sorry, I wasn’t sure what I should do while you were in there and I saw your clothes on the floor so I sort of… folded them up for you. Nothing creepy, I promise."

He looked up, noticing the folded clothes. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” Plugging his mobile to its charger, he set it down. “Now, now, come on, no more laundry. Let’s just relax.”

She smiled and nodded, sitting down on the small couch situated in front of the bed. Sitting on the bed itself seemed a bit too forward after all. She wasn’t yet entirely certain why he’d asked her in… Aside from the obvious of wanting to enjoy her company. “Join me?” she said, reaching a hand out to him and giving him an encouraging smile.

He took her hand, sitting next to her. His fingers traced across her palm, over to the back of her hand, absently stroking it. “Mind if I ask you something personal, Jennifer?”

She licked her lips, trying not to show how much that simple, rather innocent touch made her ache. “Not at all. What do you want to ask me?”

"You mentioned that you live alone, and that you’re not in a relationship," he said. "I was wondering…why? I know that’s very forward of me, and probably none of my business…"

"Why I’m… single?" she repeated, a bit struck by the question. "Well… it’s not by choice really. I mean I’ve had boyfriends before… girlfriends too. But the relationships always ended for one reason or another… usually the other person breaking up with me. I’ve had a few blind dates from match.com or other websites… but they usually take one look at me and make up their minds that there won’t be a second date."

Tom looked surprised. “Why on Earth would someone do that?” he asked. It was sincere confusion in his voice. “You’re intelligent, charming, pretty…”

She blushed. “I have my moments… but thank you.” she said, looking down a bit shyly. “I think they were just… put off by… well… my weight, not to put too fine a point on it. I’m not skinny. Never have been, never will be.”

Tom made a little noise of disbelief. “I beg your pardon, but I don’t think I’m unique in the belief that size is not the only factor in attraction. For myself, it’s more a woman’s carriage—her attitude, I guess you’d say, how she presents herself, which I find interesting. I mean, people come in all shapes and sizes, both men and women…I’m pretty tall, and not exactly the Hollywood ripped type, and I never will be.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I tend to spout off, and that was a personal question.”

"Well, I did give you permission for personal questions." she smiled at him reassuringly. "And I happen to like tall and trim. I’ve never been one for the huge, muscled types. You… well, this might be a bit TMI, but you really do hit all of the bullet points on my wish list."

"Do I?" remarked Tom. "Well, you haven’t met some of my co-stars," he added, "but that’s beside the point. I just find it difficult to believe that you don’t have anyone like that in your life. I’ve found you to be quite attractive in the short time we’ve known each other—" He stopped abruptly, realising what that must sound like.

Her blush deepened. “I might not have met any of your co-stars… but I do have some idea of what other ladies you’ve dated before have looked like, so I will take that as a very high compliment indeed.” Susannah Fielding… Kat Dennings… both utterly gorgeous women whom she knew had been with Tom. Anyone else was only rumor; Jane Arthy, Sian Clifford, Hayley Atwell… but no less beautiful. She had thought herself well outside of his tastes. Yet it seemed she was wrong.

"Ah, the media strikes again!" Tom sighed. "I don’t know that I have a type, really. I am attracted to different kinds of women, to be honest." He sat back, letting her hand go to rub his own through his hair. "It’s a part of this whole fame thing that I find so repugnant: how invasive it is. It’s as if one can’t have a relationship without public scrutiny."

She blushed, feeling like she should apologize. “You can’t blame people for being interested. You’re a handsome, talented actor and people want to know more about you.” She took his hand again. “I’m sorry… maybe I shouldn’t have brought that up. It must be hard to feel like you’re always being watched. Especially since everyone has smartphones now.”

He looked at her, shaking his head slightly, a small frown on his face. “No, it’s all right; not an interview, remember? And I brought it up in the first place. Look, to be quite honest, I find you attractive, for many reasons; not the least of which is how we’ve just gone out and about like any other tourist today. It has been far too long since I’ve been able to do that, or even find someone to do that with.”

She smiled more widely. “Thank you. And… now that we’ve confirmed that we find the other attractive..?” she said, prompting him a little bit. It was sounding more and more like he was heading in the direction she desperately wanted him to.

He chuckled softly. “It does sound juvenile, doesn’t it?” he remarked. He tugged on her hand holding his, urging her closer. “On the ship, tonight—I really enjoyed that. So was that kiss we just shared out there.”

She licked her lips again, looking down briefly and then back up at him. “Wouldn’t mind an encore performance of that kiss frankly.” she said in a soft, hesitant voice.

"Neither would I," Tom answered, leaning in toward her. The kiss was just as gentle as it had been in the hallway, but it was more solid, more sure. The hand not being held reached up to cup her face, and he placed another kiss on her lips, and then another.

This time it didn’t catch her off guard, as the one in the hallway had. She leaned into it, softly returning the caress, hand sliding up to rest on his chest. Oh god, he was so warm and solid and she could feel his heartbeat. A heartbeat… that’s what all of her fantasies of this very moment had lacked. She felt her own, certainly… but now was the first time she had an answering one.

The kisses grew more urgent, lingering with each contact, and he pressed his lips to hers more eagerly, the very tip of his tongue licking out to taste her.

She parted her lips to let him deepen the kiss, gasping softly when he did, a small noise in her throat. She pressed closer to him, hand sliding up his neck and along the back, fingers gently playing with the short, soft hair there. Growing a bit bolder, she let her own tongue slip out to twine with his. Jesus, he even tasted good…

Answering her invitation, Tom dropped his hand to her shoulder, encouraging her to continue the closer contact. The interplay of their mouths was heating up the rest of him, and he drew down to kiss her chin and along her jawline; quick, sharp, deliberate kisses. It felt so good, this rising frenzy!

Drawing in a sharp breath, she tilted her head back and to one side, offering him easier access to her skin, fingers tightening in his hair ever so slightly. “Oh god…” she moaned in a quiet voice when his lips found her pulse, a notoriously sensitive spot that always made her weak in the knees.

He breathed along her neck, holding her pulse against his lips. His hand fell over her shoulder, trailing down her back. A low groan rumbled up from him in answer to her moan. So sensitive, that spot on her neck, the soft tickle of her hair and fleece of the hoodie just distractions from that oh so responsive skin.

With his mouth against her neck, she turned her head, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to his hair, his temple. seeking to return the pleasure in some way at least. Her other hand slid around him, tracing along his ribs and around to his back. He had that slender build that she so loved, but there was something incredibly strong about him. Every inch of him was toned and taut under her fingers. “Tom…” she whispered his name, just breathing the single syllable.

"Hmm?" he asked without pause, She felt wonderful, what they were doing felt wonderful, and he had missed this, just mindlessly making out, just kissing and being kissed and not having any expectations. He had needed this, actually physically needed it. He prayed she wouldn’t pull back, wouldn’t want to stop.

She laughed breathlessly. “Nothing… just wanted to say your name.” she smiled, pulling back only enough to look him in the eyes, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re an incredibly good kisser, by the way. Not that you probably didn’t know that.”

He flashed a boyish grin at her. “I started young,” he remarked, punctuating each comment with additional kisses. “My first kiss…was when I was ten…”

"Precocious indeed." she commented in a soft voice. "I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 13—which is funny since that means we both had our first kiss the same year."

He chuckled, a deep vibration against her skin. “Funny thing, that. But I enjoyed it. A lot. Was a real kiss, too; tongue and everything. Heh! Thrilling…”

"At ten! I bet you were a crazily cute kid too." she said, taking advantage of his talking in order to reverse their positions a bit, leaning in to kiss along his jawline and down his throat. He was just a tiny bit scruffy… just enough to remind her that she was making out with a very handsome man. She followed the lines of his neck, along his pulse, pausing to pay special attention to the apex between neck and shoulder, the taut muscle there, even the light spattering of freckles.

Tom threw back his head with a gasp. She had found one of his spots, and he shivered. “God, that’s good!” he exclaimed, breathless. His entire body felt electric, and he wanted to do more than kiss.

She grinned to herself, pleased that she had found such a sensitive spot on him. God, his voice was audio sex to begin with… moaning and panting like he was now, it was downright triple-X rated to her! She sat back a tiny bit, pulling off the hoodie and tossing it to the floor. Though the thin tee shirt did nothing to keep her warm in the air conditioning, Tom’s touch certainly did.

Tom watched her with bright eyes, wanting to pull her close again, wanting to do much, much more… “May I?” he asked, reaching for her shoulders.

"Yes." she nodded, blushing a bit. She didn’t even really know what he was asking exactly, but she knew he could pretty much do whatever the hell he wanted and she would be okay with it.

His fingertips touched her shoulders, then her arms, and he traced down over the exposed skin to her elbows, over her forearms to her wrists, then back up, and down. He cupped her hands in his, and brought them up and kissed her palms. He pressed his face into them. “You’ve such tiny hands,” he observed.

"Do I? I guess I do. I’ve never really noticed." she said with a small smile, stroking his face, tracing the sharp curve of his cheekbones. "And you have such amazing hands… I’ve always had a thing for elegant hands on a guy and you have the most gorgeous hands I’ve ever seen."

"Thank you," he said. "Jennifer…is it all right? To go further with this? No pressure, I just…need to know what we’re doing is all right for you." He knew he was blushing again. "I’m really enjoying this so far, and I hope you are too…What I’m saying is, we can stop any time you want, all right? Just…tell me, okay?"

"Will do." she nodded, smiling at him reassuringly. "I’m… I’m more than willing to go further… beyond just making out… if that’s what you’re asking." she said, sliding one hand down along his neck and over his chest, finger plucking at the top button of his shirt playfully. "If that’s what you want… I’m all yours." she added softly.

"I want…to get out of these clothes," he replied, helping her with his shirt buttons. "And I want to touch you, I want to feel you…and I want to stop talking and just…go on."

"By all means, then." she agreed eagerly. She leaned in, caching his mouth in a less playful and more sensual kiss, moaning softly in her throat. Though small, her hands were nimble and she was able to make short work of the buttons on his shirt, soon pushing it back from his shoulders. Underneath, his skin was warm and smooth, peppered here and there with freckles. She stroked his shoulders and chest, learning the elegant curve of his collarbone.

He moaned into her mouth, leaning into her hands and their movements. He squirmed his shoulders, working off the sleeves of the shirt and freeing his arms. His hands found her waist, and he slipped his hands under her tee shirt, his touch more sure and steady. She felt amazing, her skin soft and so warm. He pushed the shirt up, drawing it off over her head and helped her draw out the long curly curtain of her hair and her arms from it. He half stood with one knee on the sofa. “Might be better if we were on the bed,” he suggested. “We could get closer.”

In her bra and her jeans, she stood, sauntering over to the bed in what she hoped as a seductive manner. It wasn’t like she had much practice in sleeping with sexy movie stars. “Closer is always good. And I seem to recall you once saying that ‘naked is better’ as well. Although I have completely forgotten the question that sparked it.”

"Naked is absolutely better in this circumstance," he agreed. He licked his lips, watching her confident stride to the bed. Her body was a whole landscape of curves: her breasts, her hips, her belly, even her legs and shoulders, and from the back he had the greatest view of her ample and very round arse. His jeans were far too constricting. He fumbled with his belt, eager to remove it.

She turned away for just a moment, pulling the blankets down and sitting long enough to kick her socks and sneakers off. She undid her own jeans and stood to slide them down. Thank all of the gods that she had worn panties that matched her bra! Her bra was bright pink, foam cups covered with matching lace. Her panties were white with a floral pattern of the same shade of pink on them.

She heard him fumbling with his belt and turned, biting her lip and smiling at him. “Need a hand? Maybe two?”

He had managed the belt, but hadn’t gotten to the jeans. “Maybe,” he replied in a husky voice as he went to her.

"May I?" she said, resting her hand on his hips and looking up at him impishly, purposely echoing his earlier tone.

He smiled broadly, his eyes fixed on her, and nodded. He stood still, but his heart was slamming against his chest, wanting to be freed as much as the part of him straining against the denim. It was becoming almost painful, this build-up!

She licked her lips, keeping her eyes up on his face while she undid the button of his jeans and very carefully drew the zipper down. There was a general consensus among his fans that he often did not wear underwear and the last thing she needed to do was accidentally catch him in the zipper! Once she’d gotten it down over the very impressive bulge, only then did she look down, laughing at herself a bit to find he did indeed have a pair of black boxer briefs on. Given this reprieve, she eased his jeans down over his legs, fingers caressing along the outsides of his thighs as she went.

Tom found himself licking his lips again, watching her as she took down his jeans. Her long locks tumbled down her shoulders, framing her breasts still cupped in her candy-pink bra. Even standing the top of her head only reached his collarbone, and she sank lower as she folded down his clothes. Still he was enjoying the view, and the rest of him wasn’t being shy in its appreciation, either. He leaned forward slightly, his long arms grasping around her to unhook the bra.

She reached back to draw her hair to one side, knowing that bra hooks were terribly tricky devices to those who did not have to wear them every day. Once he had it undone, she drew the straps down her arms and off, dropping the garment to the side. She took a deep breath and straightened, letting him see her fully.

Tom made an appreciative sound, and took her arms, spreading them out to her sides. He swayed back and forth, laughing softly as he danced with her. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured in her ear. He spun with her and moved backward onto the bed, folding his legs as he pulled her along with him and settled against the headboard.

She climbed onto the bed after him, curling against his side once he had settled back. With him still in his boxer-briefs and her still in her panties, she was able to touch him mostly unrestricted now. Her fingertips drifted over his chest, teasing lightly through the soft hair, passing very carefully over a soft nipple.

He arched up with a groan as her touch grazed him. Holy fuck, that was almost as arousing as her kissing his neck, sending a pulse of pleasure straight down into his pants and making his erection jump. His own hand grasped one of her breasts and he cupped it, feeling its weight. It almost filled his entire hand, and his fingers searched for her nipple, to return the sensation.

Her breath caught when those long fingers found their mark, her nipple hardening in response. Shifting a little, she leaned down to kiss along his chest and collarbone. “God, you’re gorgeous…” she commented, still close enough that her lips brushed over his skin as she spoke. She hesitated for just a moment before flicking her tongue out, gently teasing the nipple that had peaked from her earlier attentions.

His hand tightened on her breast, thumb rubbing the hardening center, and he shivered. “Fuck,” he muttered, gasping. “That feels amazing!” He shifted slightly to his side, giving her more access. He played with a lock of her hair that had fallen across them, still massaging her breast with his other hand. She felt so good, and he loved the noises she was making as much as the sensation of her mouth on his chest.

Her breath would catch, small sounds of pleasure escaping her whenever Tom’s fingers rubbed in just the right way, which they did with amazing frequency. She left his chest and leaned up, pressing a heated, hungry kiss to his lips. Little fingers plucked at the nipple her mouth had left.

He welcomed her kiss eagerly, his tongue teasing between her lips as he ate at her mouth. His other hand moved up between them and captured her loose breast, matching the motions of the first. Her breasts were pressed against between them as he kneaded those hard nubs with his thumbs even as she worked at his chest, still swiping her fingertips against him. He wanted more, wanted to have his hands wander all over her, mapping her body with his touch.

Feeling his heart hammering so desperately within his chest, she rolled onto her back, gently pulling at him so he could have a bit more freedom to touch her. In this new position, she could use both hands and they wandered over his skin with a tender insistence, rubbing at his shoulders, tracing over his ribs, stroking the long, strong muscles of his back.

He was able to give her breasts his full attention now, rolling them, squeezing them, playing with them as he kissed and suckled the ripe nipples. His hands dropped, skimming over her waist and belly, exploring. He found her hips, the sides of her panties, and he dipped his fingers under the hem experimentally, tracing her abdomen right above the soft mound between them.

She tensed for a second, drawing in a sharp breath and squeaking softly. “Sorry. Ticklish!” she explained when he froze, looking to her uncertainly. “It’s fine… Just… touch a bit more firmly there. I tend to flail when I get tickled and I don’t want to accidentally kick you.”

"Oh, all right," he murmured with a nod. He gave her a deep kiss just under her navel, firmly, and left her panties in place, hands wandering further down to grasp her upper thighs. He pressed the length of his body against her side, pulling her up to grasp her bottom with one hand, the other still on her leg.

She clung to his shoulders for balance, leaning up to kiss along his neck again, taking more care this time. She made a point to kiss the freckles on his pale skin, since she’d always found them very tempting in pictures. In the interest of not tumbling back clumsily, she drew one leg up, using it to hook along his long leg, drawing them closer.

Tom slid his hand over her backside, grasping it tightly with splayed fingers. “Your arse is magnificent,” he commented. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, but he knew this was going beyond making out very quickly. Not that he wanted to stop…

She laughed softly in response. “I’ve never really thought of it like that… but thank you.” She’d never really had anyone compliment her rear end before, so that was entirely new. “I’m rather partial to your arse myself.” she said, sliding her hands down to trace the upper curve thereof since she was unable to reach any lower.

"Are you?" he remarked offhandedly. "Well, you might enjoy it more if the clothes were out of the way." He let go and moved away a little. "Want to keep going?" he asked, his voice low but serious. "Again, you can say no, if you like."

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him gently. “I want to keep going.” she said. “I… I actually… have some condoms… in my purse. Take that how you will.” she said a little hesitantly. She’d gotten them a few weeks ago at a co-worker’s raunchy bachelorette party and had forgotten all about them until now.

"I’ll take that as a yes, and that you’re smart and responsible," he replied with a smile in return. "I have some, too, but I wanted to be sure you were okay with things first, before I suggested it. Want me to get them?"

"Probably a good idea. Much further and neither of us are going to want to pay attention to the safety briefing, if you know what I mean. And I’m not on any birth control pills or anything." she said. In her mind, it was highly unlikely he had any STDs and she knew she didn’t have any. So, in this case, the condom was almost entirely for preventing a pregnancy.

“Good to know; and better safe than sorry. Wouldn’t want to spoil the fun,” Tom said, rolling over and standing up. He found her purse near the sofa and brought it over to her.

She sat up and took the purse, digging through it briefly before finding the strip of three Trojans. “Here we are.” she said, handing them over to him and then setting her purse back down on the floor. With a bit of shimmying, she managed to push her panties over her wide hips and down her legs, playfully tossing them across the room.

Titillated by this little show, Tom waded back across the bed, taking in the full view of her naked body with a lustful hunger. “Here we are, indeed,” he purred, on his knees yet still tall next to her. He let the edge of the packet of condoms dangle from his teeth and took her hands, setting them on the waistband of his pants. “One last bit to be rid of,” he said. “Go ahead, if you want.”

She looked up at him with shining eyes and bit her lip, shy for just a moment. She licked her lips and leaned up to kiss his cheek before carefully easing the waistband of his boxer-briefs down, drawing the front away from him so it wouldn’t catch on him. She pushed them down, fingertips caressing along his skin. Breaking off the kiss gently, she finally looked down, turning pink once she did. “Hiddlesconda indeed.” she whispered before she meant to.

Tom gave a bark of a laugh, taking the condom packets out of his teeth. “You must be joking,” he giggled. “Is that really a term?”

She squeaked and laughed at herself. “Fraid so. I won’t even catalog the list of euphemisms we have… not now, at least.” she said, seeking to restore the mood by drawing her fingers along the taut line of his inner thigh and slowly stroking up to curl around the root of him.

"Thought about this a lot, have you?" he queried, arching his eyebrows. There was a sharp intake of breath as she grasped him. Dear lord, he was eager, and the brief memory of last night in the shower flashed behind his eyelids as he blinked. "Gently," he hissed. "That’s it…"

She drew in a shaking breath as she carefully stroked him from base to tip, keeping her touch light since there was no lotion or anything to ease the way. “All kidding aside… you are… huge…” she said, looking down once more. She was not exaggerating either. He was very long and just a bit thicker than she would have thought… and hard as iron against her hand.

For a long moment he savoured her attentions on his flesh, still as a statue, without comment. God, it had been far too long a time. Opening his eyes wide he tore off one of the condoms from the strip and held it out. “Should I, or do you want to?” he asked softly. He didn’t intend to dive right in, but it would be best if they took the precaution: he was already hard enough, and just the thought of more made him shake.

"I’ll do it." she smiled, taking the condom from him and getting it out of the packet. "Bear with me… been a long time since I’ve had to put a condom on anyone." she smiled, slowly placing it against his tip and rolling it down. "How’s that? Still feel all right?"

"Safe and sound," he quipped. He checked that it was on snugly, holding it in place. "We can try two, if you want to be extra cautious."

"I think we’re safe. Besides, don’t guys always complain that they can’t feel anything through a condom?" she assured him. "It’s not that time in my cycle anyway… so even if that one fails, there’s still very little chance of anything unwanted happening." She leaned up and kissed him, fingers drifting over his shoulders and chest once more. "God, you are… so gorgeous…"

"Hm," he hummed as he leaned to kiss the hollow of her throat. He kept a hand on himself, cradling both his cock and the sack beneath them, and let his free hand stroke down to her naked center.

She gasped, feeling his hand trail downwards. “Tom…” she whispered his name, little fingers digging into his shoulders. “Help me lay back so you can touch me easily.” she said, shifting forward and trying to uncurl her legs from under her.

He helped with his exploring hand, steadying her as he laid her back, relaxing her legs out in front of her, arms open to him. He sank forward, settling beside her. His free hand he placed on her inner thigh, urging her to open her legs wider. He placed the flat of his palm against the wet heat of her, his fingers curling up to pet her in a languid wave. First one finger, then another, rubbed and teased along the outer folds, gently parting each satiny petal of her as they delved deeper.

She drew in a soft, sharp gasp, closing her eyes, her hips trembling slightly as she struggled to remain still under his explorations. She did not wax or shave anything down there and very nearly apologized for not being hairless, but any thought of words disappeared when his nimble fingers curled up to find her clit. She cried out, hips bucking up, her entire body tensing in pleasure.

The growl that escaped him was almost primal as he continued, his thumb sliding up to the roundish pearl hidden in that apex, his other fingers slipping inside her, one after another, coated with her own aroused dewiness. The ruffled edge just within her, the velvety strength of her inner walls, all tugged at his questing fingers, and he moved with a quickening rhythm, holding himself in check.

"Ahhh…! Tom!" she cried out, voice rising in a high pitch, but still hushed so they would not disturb anyone else in the hotel. His fingers were so long… delving deeper than anything she could manage on her own. Small catches of breath and sighs of need escaped her, full breasts heaving as she struggled for breath.

Tom smirked, a very male expression as he went on relentlessly. His cock twitched impatiently in his hand but he forced his attention to his other hand and the movements of his fingers in and around her. He could feel the internal tug and pull as she closed around him, milking his fluttering digits. He gritted his teeth. “Come for me,” he hissed, panting now too. “Come, darling, come, Jennifer!”

Hearing him urge her on, saying her name in that amazingly deep and sensual voice of his; that was what pushed her over the edge. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she nearly arched off of the bed, writhing and all but sobbing through the starbursts of pleasure exploding throughout her entire body. Her insides clamped down on his fingers in strong pulses, seeking more and more. It seemed endless moments before she began to settle back on the bed, a fine sheen of sweat gleaming on her pale skin, flushed pink.

Tom stilled his movements as she reached her climax, reveling in her explosion of pleasure. Fuck, to feel that rush through her, knowing he had helped her achieve it, was so potent a stimulant that he had to remind himself to keep a tight grip on his own. She was all over the rumpled bed, gasping and glistening and flushed. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and he carefully withdrew his hand.

She curled against him, not wanting to lessen their contact in the least. “Tom… oh, god… that was… wow!” was all she could pant out, laughing at herself for being so blown away. “You. Are. Amazing.” she whispered to him, separating each word with a soft kiss along his neck.

Tom looked pleased, even in his heightened state. She was so lovely in her satisfaction, like a purring cat, stretched out next to him. Her musky scent clung to his fingers and it excited him. He reached down to check that all was still in place—it was—and he was aching with the desire to roll back on top of her. His need was nearly blinding.

"What would you like?" she asked him, sitting up next to him as he lay back on his back. "I can ride you… if you like. Or if you want to be on top of me, that’s fine too." she said, hands sliding over his chest, thumbs flicking gently over each nipple. "Or we can linger a bit more over this rather delightful foreplay."

He gave a long moan and bent his head back in the pillows at the sensation of her thumbs on him. He was already so tightly wound, and that particular gesture so incredibly electrifying that he fought to keep his breathing steady. “I’d like to touch you, have you touch me…like that. More with that,” he said, once he could speak again, his voice raw, “and yes, I want to watch you as you take me in, ride me…I want you to feel pleasure again with me inside you…”

Just the sound of his voice, so low and strained with need, made her moan softly, leaning down to kiss him. “Keep talking like that and getting me to feel pleasure with you inside of me will not be difficult in the least.” she whispered, kissing along his jawline and finding that soft spot just next to his jaw.

Hoping that gravity would help with keeping things in place, Tom let go and grasped Jen around her waist, half lifting her up over him. “Keep touching me like that, and I’ll do more than talk,” he growled.

She squeaked and straddled him as gracefully as she could, soft thighs pressed against his hips. Taking a deep breath, she reached down, fingers grasping him and stroking him a few times, keeping the condom in place, then gently guiding him against her wetness. “Ooooh…” she moaned, closing her eyes in concentration as she eased him inside. He easily had the largest cock of any man she’d been with and, if she was honest, he was bigger than any sex toy she’d used before either. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, you’re big…” she panted, though her tone was one of surprise and pleasure, not pain.

"Slowly, slowly!" he urged her. "Take your time, there’s no rush…" His voice was half-strangled and filled with tension, even as she guided him to her wet and eager opening. "Ohhh," he sighed as she lowered herself onto him. While the condom did impede some sensation he was glad for it; he wanted to make this last, and he was already perilously close due to all the stimulation.

She nodded shakily and went more slowly, very carefully lowering herself until her hips were snug against his. Once he was fully buried inside of her, she let out a breath, leaning down a little, her hands on the pillows just over his shoulders, supporting herself as much as she could. “You all right? I’m not too heavy, am I?”

"No, you’re fine," Tom replied, a bit breathless. He was still beneath her, willing himself not to move. "I’m not hurting you, am I?" He sounded anxious. He knew he was in deep, and god, she felt fantastic, but he hesitated.

"No… not hurting me at all." she shook her head. "Just feel… really full and you’re in… really deep. It’s good though… it feels good." she assured him before lifting her hips up and then back down. "Ooooh… oh, god… god, that feels… really good."

"Ah!" Tom held on to her hips, but his thumbs strayed along her thighs, seeking the hidden spot with which he had just toyed. His own hips began to move, thrusting up to meet her rocking on him. One hand found what he sought and he rubbed it in a circular rhythm, his other hand snaking behind her to press against the small of her back. He grunted as his thrusts grew wilder, nostrils flaring as he pulled air into his lungs. Yes, this, this was what he needed…!

She moaned and panted, keeping her rhythm steady and as slow as she could manage, not wanting this to end too soon. “Tom… Tom…” she whispered, his name a soft chant on her lips. She began to roll her hips instead of simply rocking back and forth on him. The movement took a bit more concentration her part, but she wanted to see if it had any further effect on him.

"Oh, god, fuck…!" he whimpered, hips pumping as he writhed beneath her. His eyes had fallen shut when his head fell back, but suddenly they snapped open wide, staring up at her, shining with mounting pleasure. They locked on her breasts bouncing above him, her hair falling like a curtain over her face as she rode him, her hands on his chest. "Close," he choked out. "So close, so close…"

"Come for me, Tom…" she encouraged him, not very far behind him. She rode him with a bit more force, pumping her hips more quickly, nimble little fingers seeking out his nipples since they seemed to have a rather keen effect on him. She wanted to feel him… wanted to watch him come, see what expression he made, hear what sounds came from his throat.

The shift was sudden, grabbing him at the base of his spine, and the tense pounding much like his heart, surging forward and making his whole body ache. He gave a hoarse, wordless cry, belly curling into her as he felt the rush explode up out of him, filling the barrier between them, every nerve electric where they touched. ‘Coming, coming, oh god, coming!” he panted with each warm pulse, before he collapsed back in an exhausted heap. He could feel the rim of the condom still on him, and he grabbed at it, holding on.

She watched him with rapt attention as he came, drinking in the sight of this utterly gorgeous man caught in the throes of passion… passion that she had caused! Even as he began to come down from his high, she kept moving her hips, very slightly… just enough to continue the sensations. “Oh, god, Tom…” she panted, out of breath both from excitement and exertion.

"Oh, god," he groaned. "Wait.." He moved up slightly, making sure he was still in and everything was still in place. "That was…" he began before clearing his throat. "That was just….amazing!" He grinned, He was still hard, and he didn’t want to lose momentum.

She smiled and blushed at the compliment. “You’re amazing.” she replied, leaning down kiss him, more gently this time. “You’re handsome and smart and eloquent and talented… and amazing.” she whispered, one hand sliding over his cheekbone and up into his hair in a sweet caress.

He gave her a boyish smile, a happy flush of color pinking his cheeks. “So are you,” he insisted. “You’re beautiful and confident and intelligent and sexy,” he listed. She squeezed him inside her, making his cock jump. He began to rock gently, seeing how long his erection could be maintained. There it was…the warm suffuse afterglow that began to tingle out of the centre of his body and wash over his entire skin. He had so fucking missed that, all of that, and this too.

Her pace was slow and steady, undulating her body, sliding her sopping wet sex up and down his cock. “Mmm… god, you feel so good…” she moaned, arching her back, small hands braced on his shoulders.

For what seemed a long time, Tom just relished her movements around and above him. He held himself steady, careful that the seal on the condom didn’t break or loosen, and he marveled that he was still hard. Little sounds of happy approval bubbled up from him in a kind of hum, and the hand not holding himself explored her dancing body, touching here, caressing there. His shining eyes drank in the sight of her pleasuring herself with his body: it was so joyous and free that in a way it reminded him of the cats they had seen in the zoo that afternoon.

With a small smile at him, she hoisted herself upwards, sitting upright, gravity driving him deeper inside of her, the tip of his latex-clad cock just pressing against her cervix. It was not something she had felt before and it made her gasp. It didn’t hurt at all, but there was a whole new level of pressure and fullness that only added to her pleasure.

An almost intoxicated smile spread over his face at that gasp. “Good?” he asked. He was going to be able to move again soon; in fact, he was eager for it, but he was definitely getting quite a lot out of watching her. It wasn’t a matter of getting hard again—he hadn’t stopped—but he wanted to do things of his own to her.

"Yeah… you’re just in really deep." she panted softly, having stopped her movements, staying with him lodged inside of her. "Wow… I’ve never… felt that before."

"Felt what?" he asked, still smiling.

She looked down at him. “Let me put it this way… you physically cannot get any deeper.” she explained. “There’s no further to go inside of me.”

"Really?" He looked completely pleased in a very masculine way. "And you like that, how that feels?"

"God, yes." she nodded breathlessly. "I’ve never felt anything like it and it’s… it feels fantastic."

"Hmmm," he replied as if contemplating her exclamation. He shifted slightly, drawing back and pushing up. "And that?" he asked.

"Ahh… really good." she moaned, using her thighs to lift herself off and then drop down slowly, her hands braced on his stomach for balance. Since her movement was a bit hindered in this sitting up position, she rolled her hips as best she could, squeezing around him tightly.

"And…that?" He was teasing her now, but he wasn’t waiting about, either, not with the unexpected gift of a still-hard and ready cock. Her responses were quickly adding to the excitement.

She gave another sweet cry. “Fuck… Tom…” she mewled his name, arching her back and leaning her head back so her hair fell behind her. Her breasts bounced with her movements, nipples still pink and hard in her excitement.

"Heh," he chuckled and moved again, a smooth, circular motion, drawing back and pushing up again and again. Insider her, he could feel the spot he was bumping, and the gripping friction surrounding him was wonderful.

Now she was the one getting very close, her hips starting to tremble in that telltale way. “Tom…” she panted in a shaking voice, “I don’t know if I can… keep my balance… much longer.”

He stopped his thrusting at that. “Okay. How ‘bout we shift positions, then?” he suggested. With his free hand he helped guide her off from on top of him, patting the bed beside him. She was shaking, and he was also a bit unsteady as he sat up. Everything seemed intact, for which he was grateful. “Just lie down for a second; going to take care of this.” He moved the side of the bed, hunting for the remaining condoms. The sudden lack of pressure allowed for an easier removal and replacement, and he turned back to her, ready for another go. “This way all right for you?”

"Yes." she nodded, laying back on the bed and grabbing one of the many pillows, sliding it under her hips as best she could. At his curious look, she blushed. "You’ve got very long legs… this will help keep me in a position comfortable for you as well." she explained.

"Very considerate of you," he mused. He moved up between her legs and noted that the pillow did angle her into a position that made access easier for him. He ran the tip of himself over her opening, enjoying the slippery slide as he teased along the folds his fingers had explored before. She was very wet, and it was obvious that she was close, and he was amazingly still hard, so he didn’t hesitate to guide his length inside her with a slow and even pace.

She closed her eyes and arched her back, moaning softly. “Oh god… Tom…” she sighed softly. Something about that first thrust inside of her had always made her head spin… and with Tom, this was doubly so. She reached up, hands gripping his shoulders as she drew her legs up and spreading them as wide as she could.

Sinking forward, he rested on his forearms, which left their bodies pressed together. He was deep, and could feel that spot that had made her squirm before. He paused for a moment, and then he began to move his hips, forward and back.

"Tom…" she mewled his name, wrapping her legs up and around his waist, drawing him in close, cradling him between them. Each thrust forward caused a soft cry as she tried to meet his motions. Her hips started to shake, her insides tightening around him. "Fuck… close… Tom…!"

Her panting and embrace encouraged him to move more rapidly, and he began to feel the curling build-up sensation between his legs. God, she was meeting every push and thrust and his breath grew just as ragged as hers as he chanted her name like a mantra. “Jen, Jen, Jen…!”

She gave a sharp, wordless cry as she came, holding on to him tightly, with her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Tom!” she almost screamed his name, voice strained. Her body writhed and trembled against him, squeezing and panting and clinging.

His hands had found the sides of her head, and he cradled her face, her loose hair tangling around his fingers. “Jen! Ah, fuck, Jen!” Tom barked. All the sensations rushing over and through him coalesced into a single explosion zinging down his spine as he came again. The electric intensity of it left him twitching and breathless for a long moment, before he sank down on her with an almost giddy sigh.

"Tom…" she cooed his name in a soft sigh, winding her arms around him and stroking his back as he settled on her. "Oh, god… that was… incredible…" she breathed against his shoulder.

He pushed back up onto his forearms to take his weight off her and let her breathe. Untangling his fingers and petting her hair, he placed a quiet kiss on her forehead. “It was,” he agreed. “It is. It’s all been incredible.” Again a blissful calm rolled over him, and he relaxed, drawing back and out. Rolling off, he sat on the edge of the bed and took care of tidying up, offering her a towel when he ducked into the bathroom to wash off.

She wiped herself off neatly and then curled on her side, pulling just the sheet up and over herself while she waited for him to come back, feeling exhausted and utterly sated. Oh god, she had actually just slept with Tom-fucking-Hiddleston!

Tom returned to the room, naked. With a gentle expression, he looked at her swathed in the sheets. Pulling open a dresser drawer, he grabbed a pair of boxers and drew them up over his legs before sliding back onto the bed. He touched her shoulders, resting his head on the pillow next to her. He felt he should say something, but wasn’t sure what, in that moment.

She turned around to face him, smiling as she sidled closer, curling up against him. “Mmm… you smell good.” she said softly, looking up at him with shining eyes. “Like… sex and cologne and you…” She reached up, gently petting her fingers through his hair. God, he was so achingly gorgeous… she could barely believe she had just slept with him!

"And that’s a good thing?" he asked playfully. He scratched at his unshaven jaw. "I haven’t showered or anything." He scooted down and pressed against her, taking the soft warmth of her in his arms. He wanted to thank her, and tell her how wonderful what they had just done together had been for him, how much he appreciated everything she had done, but the words just didn’t seem right. He tried to think of some poem, some line, even a song lyric that would express it, and that felt too contrived and trite. So he said nothing, and just held her.

"Very good thing." she agreed. "And I haven’t showered either… so I can hardly complain about your temporary lack of grooming. The difference is you still look amazing and I probably look like something the cat dragged in." she laughed softly. Her laugh turned to a gentle purr of contentment as he pressed against her back and slid his arms around her. Tall and long of limb as he was, she felt completely enveloped within his embrace.

"We could open the walk-through, if you want to get anything," he mentioned. "But, I want…that is, you could sleep here, tonight." Oh, yes, very smooth, that, Tom! He chided himself. He didn’t want to move, and didn’t want her to move even temporarily. He just wanted to enjoy this, the afterward. He had missed it, missed it more than he had been willing to admit to anyone, especially himself.

She smiled to herself, just barely suppressing a squeal of delight. “You want me to stay in here with you?” she asked, just wanting to make sure. “I mean… I’d love to. I just want to make sure it’s what you want too.”

Dear god, yes, I want you to stay in here with me, he thought to himself. He buried his face in her hair. Aloud he said, softly, “Yes, stay. Please.”

"You got it." she smiled, covering one of his hands with hers where it rest just under her breasts, stroking the back gently. "I’ll take that as a sign that the sex was good then?" she ventured. Maybe it was fishing for a compliment a bit… he had come twice after all, so of course had he enjoyed it, but she still wanted to hear him confirm it.

"Good is too poor a word for it," he whispered in her ear. "It was exquisite. It’s been far too long since…" he let that comment trail off. "You were amazing," he finished earnestly.

"So were you." she smiled, squeezing his fingers. "And it’s been a long time for me too… I haven’t had sex with another person since… well… jeez, something like ten years?" she said, actually surprising herself. She’d never counted before! "God, that sounds incredibly pathetic and desperate, doesn’t it? Please don’t think badly of me for it."

"I don’t think badly of you for that," he replied. "I do seem to forget that you’re older than you look, though. And too bad for those that were missing out!" he smiled. "It hasn’t been that long for me, but I was thinking more along the ‘quality over quantity’ line, really."

"You definitely provide more than enough quality to make up for the lack of quantity on my part." she laughed softly. "And don’t feel bad about forgetting how old I am. I still get carded at R-rated movies from time to time. That’s the single advantage to being chubby… very few wrinkles to give away my age."

"Enough of that," he said. "I happen to enjoy those curves of yours, darling; I won’t hear them insulted."

"OK, two advantages. No wrinkles and Tom Hiddleston thinks I’m sexy." she giggled. "I wasn’t trying to insult myself, honestly… I’ve just lived in the body long enough to know what the usual reactions to it are."

"Never let others define you," Tom murmured. "No-one. Not even me." He sighed quietly. "Jennifer, I understand that you see yourself differently than I see you, and you…you’ve seen me in a way others haven’t, recently. And I can’t tell you how much that has meant to me." He fell silent, holding her.

The gentle, introspective tone in his voice made her peer up at him. She slid one arm under and around him, the other hand cupping his cheek so that he would look at her. Smiling gently, she gave him a tender, lingering kiss. “You’re a friendly, kind-hearted, and generous man who just happens to also be very good looking and an incredibly fine actor. You’re a tourist in my city willing to indulge my liking for zoos and fireworks. You’re a sweetheart.”

He smiled at her, not like those thousands of pictures she saw every day; there was sadness in it, a stillness that looked far too old in his eyes. “You are something special, do you know that?” he remarked. “No, don’t say it; to me you are something special, that’s the truth.”

Even in the darkness, her cheeks turned pink, tears pricking at her eyes. She ducked her head under the guise of hiding her blush, burying her face against his shoulder and trying to control her breathing. Her shoulders shook slightly, but otherwise, she was still. She held her breath as long as she could, but when her lungs threatened to burst she had to breathe, resulting in a soft sob, tears falling onto his skin.

Not knowing what else to do and somewhat startled at her reaction, Tom gathered her closer in his arms, rocking her gently. “Shhh, shhh, it’s all right,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. It was such a lovely evening, and I just…honestly, I’m quite grateful…”

"It’s okay… I’m not upset. I’m… just… touched. You didn’t do anything wrong. Very much the opposite." she assured him, her voice a bit watery as she tried to wipe her tears away, smiling through them. "It’s been an amazing evening."

Relief flooded across his face. “Oh, good, I thought I had spoiled it with my prattling. It has been amazing. All of it, last night, today, tonight, all amazing!” He gave her a small squeeze. “Do you want that door open? I’m going to be tremendously lazy and shower in the morning…if I don’t lie in until noon, that is.” He grinned. “Nothing on the schedule, is there?”

"Mmm… yeah, it’s probably a good idea. And lying in sounds like a fantastic idea. Spend a lazy morning in bed… order room service when we get hungry. Do you leave tomorrow night or on Monday?" she asked, wondering how much time she had left with him.

"Very early Monday morning," he answered.

"Do you want me to stay until then? I can get my work clothes cleaned and just head in to the office on Monday morning. I wouldn’t have to leave until quarter after seven in the morning that way. And we can spend as much time together as possible." she asked, hoping he would say yes.

It suddenly dawned on Tom that his little vacation would come to an end, and soon. He would fly off, and Jennifer would go back to her work and her life. And there was an unanticipated reluctance at considering that. “Yes, of course,” he said, trying not to examine his reaction too deeply. “If it’s not inconvenient, I’d like that.”

"Not inconvenient at all. And even if it were, I would still do it." she smiled, leaning up to kiss him, more playful this time. "Anything you want to do tomorrow? Aside from sleep in for as long as we can."

"Nope, not a thing," he laughed, kissing her back. "And sleep is a good thing; we need that. Let’s see what the day brings, shall we?"

"Sounds like a plan. Or a deliberate lack of a plan." she smiled, stretching in his arms before curling back against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. "You comfortable like this or do you want to sleep in a different position?"

"I liked what we were doing before, that spooning," he stated, "but this is nice, too. Should pull up the covers, though, I think." He carefully untangled himself from her, and reached for the blankets, spreading them out and over them. He settled back, sinking beneath the sheets, and he opened his arms to her.

She rolled around and back into him so she was the little spoon once more, smiling over her shoulder at him. “Like this?” she asked, drawing his arm around her so it was lying across her waist, hand just under her breasts.

"Just like that," he nodded, content. "Comfortable for you?"

"Yes." she nodded, settling down with her head on his other arm. "I like the feel of you against me like this… feels protective and warm." she commented softly.

"That’s the idea," Tom said drowsily. Sleep was rapidly catching up with him. He kissed her neck lightly. "Good night and sweet dreams, darling."

"You too, sweetheart." she said, giving him a pet name in return, even though she knew he called everyone darling. She closed her eyes, feeling heavy and sleepy now. Normally, she had a lot a trouble getting to sleep. But safe in the space of Tom’s arms, high above the city, she fell right to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jen wake up after a fantastic night together and a few more shenanigans ensue.

The mid-morning sun was bright and shining off the lake when Tom opened his eyes the next day. He blinked sleepily and shifted on the bed before remembering that there was someone sleeping next to him. He paused, debating whether to get up or to wait and savour the novelty of having someone in bed with him. The room was quiet and subdued as they usually are in slumber, and Tom just relaxed, breathing softly and meditated on this calm little moment.

Jen was still deeply asleep, half-wrapped in blankets, her long locks disheveled over the pillows. The curve of her shoulder was pale and as freckled as a plover’s egg, and looked soft and smooth.

She continued to sleep for a few more minutes before making a small, non-verbal noise in her throat and turning her face more into the pillow, pressing herself back against Tom for more warmth. “Too comfortable to get up… but I can *feel* that it’s late.” she murmured into Tom’s arm under her head.

"Haven’t checked the clock, yet," Tom muttered in reply, "And I don’t care to." He snuggled back against her, pulling the blankets closer. The animal warmth between them was going to lull them back to sleep…or awaken something else entirely. Tom tried to hold on to that serene stillness of the moment before.

Not moving other than the deep set of her breathing, Jennifer dozed lightly, somewhere between asleep and awake. Part of her was aware that she was very naked and very much still in bed with an almost-as-naked Tom Hiddleston. Another part was still convinced that the last night had been some sort of incredibly vivid dream.

Tom considered rolling onto his back, to put a bit of physical distance between them. What a night they had! He stared at the window, not seeing the scenery, thoughts racing through his still sleepy mind. The sex had been wonderful, and lord knew his body was more than willing to start the morning with similar activity, but he wondered just where that would lead. This wasn’t some screenplay, after all: Jennifer was a real woman, with a life of her own. It wasn’t like he was expecting anything more from her, but he also felt a reluctance about the end of this personal time. Certainly he wasn’t regretting it? No, no, not at all; quite the opposite…It was just, considering his past relationships, he was feeling…what, exactly? Loneliness? Failure, maybe? He sighed. He really didn’t want to go into all that. Not now, not ever. Better to just enjoy what little remaining time he could share with Jen, and move on, and look back on pleasant memories.

Perhaps sensing his disquiet, Jen turned around, curling against his chest. “Morning, handsome.” she purred at him in a soft voice, nuzzling sleepily against his collarbone and pressing a tender kiss right at the hollow of his throat. “You okay, Tom? You seem quiet.”

"I’m just slow to wake up in the morning," he replied. That wasn’t entirely true; parts of him were most certainly awake, but that was temporary. Their time together was limited, and he wasn’t about to embark on a whole discussion of his previous relationships or his feelings about them. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm… yeah. Which is odd for me. I usually have a really hard time going to sleep." she said. "How about you? You sleep okay?"

"Very well," he answered with a sly grin. He gave her a small squeeze and a brief kiss on her forehead. "You’re very nice to wake up to," he commented.

She laughed softly in delight at the compliment, tilting her head up to look at him, hand straying into his hair. “So are you. It should be illegal to look this good first thing in the morning. Wanker.” she added, teasing him playfully.

Absently, he pushed back his curly hair from his forehead. “I have grave doubts as to my good looks at the moment,” he stated. “I probably look frightful, with my hair like springs and chin like sandpaper.” He scrunched up his nose. “Not to mention dragon breath! I should go take that shower I put off last night.”

"I like your curly hair and your scruff." she laughed, leaning up to kiss him gently. "And neither of us has brushed our teeth recently, so at least we’re partners on Team Dragon Breath." she reminded him.

Tom chuckled. “I always wondered,” he mused, “what dragons say about their breath: ‘Ew, I’ve got HUMAN breath!’ “

She laughed outright. “I think it depends on the dragon in question. Toothless doesnt talk. Smaug would be proud of his dragon breath. And Draco would complain about the knights rotting in his molars. Sapphira would probably call it human breath just to piss off Eragon.”

Tom joined in her laughter. “You just named how many fictional dragons? That was brilliant!”

"And I didn’t even get to Puff and Mushu and Figment and Elliot and Haku…" she continued with a smile, still playing with his sleep-mussed hair.

"Rwarrr," Tom growled, and then burst out laughing at his poor imitation of a dragon. "I’m afraid I don’t do the great lizards justice, other than the breath, that is. Which is probably a good thing, since neither of us are virgins."

"Not by a long shot, but I am not complaining at all. Last night was fantastic." she leaned up and kissed him, not caring about said dragon breath. "And, judging by what’s pressing against my thigh… you’re ready for another go." she teased him lightly, feeling his stiffening cock against her body, not quite fully hard yet, but quickly getting there.

"Heh," he smiled. It was true that he had woken up with a normal morning hard-on, which was why he had taken the precaution of sleeping covered. Spooning with Jen had only encouraged him, with the sensation of the peach-round warmth of her backside pressed up against his boxers. But instead of fading away as he had hoped, what had been a lazy morning distraction was rapidly becoming more than that.

"Up for round two? No pun intended?" she asked, trying to be seductive although she was sure it was coming off as more playful than sexy. She slid one hand down along his chest and hip, tracing down his thigh and then back up to cup the bulge through his boxers.

Well, if she was game for it…Tom arched his back and pushed his hips up toward her hand. “I’m ready for anything, darling,” he drawled with a grin that was both relaxed and erotic. He tried to remember where he had stashed the last of Jen’s condoms. He had his own, as he had mentioned, so he didn’t worry about it much. He was following her lead this time.

"Lay back then, sweetheart." she smiled, using her other hand to push at his shoulders so he would lie down. She rose, kneeling on the bed, still very naked, her long hair pulled to one side over her shoulder. She made quick work of removing the boxers, casually letting them fall to the floor next to the bed. A little shifting and she was over the top of him, kneeling between his legs and kissing very gently along his neck, seeking those sensitive spots she’d discovered the night before.

"Mmmm, that’s nice," Tom went on, letting her position him. Her trailing hair followed the path of her soft questing mouth on his neck, tickling him slightly. Her lips found that oh so sensitive area there, and he shivered, moaning.

"Mmm… now I like that noise. What other fun sounds can I get you to make?" she murmured teasingly. "I really do have such a thing for your voice. You don’t even want to know how many times I’ve listened to you reading poetry while I was in bed." she commented, drifting lower, her words interspersed with little kisses and licks.

Tom squirmed, a little breathless at the intensity of arousal. “Jen,” he called to her. “Before we get too far along…do you need a condom? We’re not covered.” The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt, but he also wasn’t going to be completely irresponsible, either.

“Not necessary for what I have in mind.” she said softly, kissing along his toned belly, following a trail of soft hair that began sparsely just below his navel. Her mouth continued lower, kissing just along the insides of his thighs, her hair curtaining across his now fully erect cock.

Tom gulped, realising what she was doing. “Ohhhhfuck,” he murmured. He shoved away the sudden intrusion of a memory of a similar situation, focusing on Jen and the sensations being generated on his skin.

"Mmm… keep talking." she encouraged him sweetly before shifting and starting to kiss very gently along the underside of his cock. God, his skin was so hot… and he really was very large compared to other guys she’d seen in person. She’d only had voluntary sex with one other guy, who had been a tad on the small side. The other men had either been male models on her art classes… or under much less favorable circumstances.

"Oh, god," he groaned. "Be gentle with me, please…" Her kisses were feather-light, cool brushes of her lips against his hot flesh. He wasn’t used to lying down for this, and frankly, he wasn’t used to this entire activity, but he wanted to enjoy each and every touch. "I want this to last…"

The soft urgency in his voice made her resolve to be as tender about this as possible. To be honest, it took the pressure off of her to engage in any fellatio acrobatics. “Okay… just relax. And seriously, do keep talking. Even if it’s to tell me to back off a little.” she said. She kept kissing him for the moment instead of moving right on to licking or sucking, lips trailing up to the tip and very carefully kissing the now weeping head.

He whimpered, trying to hold still. “What should I say?” he asked. “It’s not like I’m reciting poetry…ahh!” He shifted beneath her, pleasure running through him with each touch. “Unless…you want me to…”

"I won’t demand that of you when I’m doing this to you. Just tell me what it feels like… ask me to do things that you know will feel good. Whatever comes to mind." she smiled before slowly drawing her tongue up along that thick vein and flicking it over the tip.

"Ah, aaahhh…hehhehheh…." Tom gasped incoherently for long moments. "More of that would be nice…all of this is…well, heh, more than nice, really…oh, dear lord…!" He struggled to gain some control, if only to provide Jen with her request.

Going as slowly as she realistically could, she swirled her tongue around the tip and then closed her lips around him, gently sucking on him. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to fit all of him in her mouth, so she used one hand to grasp him around the base, keeping him steady and adding to the sensation.

Tom gave up trying to make any sense, and let the sensations take over. Holy fuck, her mouth on his aching flesh was blinding in its pleasure. He clamped his lips together, hissing in frustration as he fought the urge to thrust.

She could feel his abs tightening, how they trembled. His balls were drawn up heavy and tight. Even with her somewhat elementary knowledge of men, she knew damn well that meant he was close. She moaned softly and bobbed her head up and down, using her tongue to sort of cradle his cock in her mouth, massaging along it as she sucked on him.

"Shit!" He pounded the bed with his fists. "Not going to last!" he warned.

Another soft moan, her voice vibrating along his cock, and she redoubled her efforts, sucking a bit harder, moving her hand with a bit more vigor. Previously, she hadn’t really enjoyed giving head, but on Tom… it was actually pretty sexy. She liked how he moved, how his voice sounded, even how he tasted.

His hands scrabbled over the sheets, seeking purchase. His hips snapped in tight, unrestrained jerks as he felt his control slip. “Oh, god,” he panted. “I’m, I’m…Jen…fuck, I’m…!” And then it grabbed him as completely and surely as it usually did, every nerve dancing like it was on fire, every muscle tensing as he came, each pulse dragging a muffled sobbing sound from his throat.

Jen kept sucking, swallowing down every drop. Even this was amazing with Tom… the salty, slightly bitter taste of him, the feel of his hardness starting to recede. Even as he softened, she gave him little licks and kisses to bring him down slowly, rather than abandoning him as soon as she could. “There you go, Tom… I got you.” she spoke once she had finished, climbing back up to hold him close, stroking his hair as he shivered.

Time had appeared to stop, even though the mid-morning light was still shining through the windows. Tom’s focus shifted up to his heaving chest as his heart slammed against his ribcage. Wordless, he clung to her like a child, letting her cradle him close as they rocked on the bed.

She pressed soft kisses to his hairline, stroking the brown curls back as she rocked him. “You okay, sweetheart? Was it all right?”

"Was it all right?" Tom repeated incredulously. "Are you joking? Yes, it was all right; it was fantastic!" His breath slowed as he sank into the drowsy afterglow, nestled in her arms. "Did I mention that you’re nice to wake up to? Well, it’s more than nice, it’s wonderful."

She laughed softly and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Mmm… you’re nice to wake up to too.” she said. “Just relax and let yourself come down… then we’ll think about some breakfast, hmm?”

"Breakfast…yes, breakfast sounds very good right about now. Let’s clean up, order some breakfast, and then," he added, a mischievous smile dancing over his features, "we’ll see what other activities we can engage in."

She grinned at him and leaned down to kiss him playfully. “Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to go to my own room to shower or shall we… um… share yours?” she asked.

"I believe the purpose of bathing is to get clean, and I suspect that things will just get more dirty in there," he observed wryly. "Not that I mind. Whatever you like; I’m going to take my time here, once I get that menu."

“OK. I need to at least get some clean clothes and fetch my shampoo and conditioner from the other room.” she said carefully extracting herself from the bed and stretching, still naked. In the sunlight, her skin was milky pale with a generous sprinkling of freckles across her shoulders.

In place of her, Tom shoved a bunch of pillows under his head, propping himself up. He watched her move in the sunlight, still feeling blissful. What a glorious morning! “The access key is on the dresser, for the door,” he instructed. He was going to have to use his own washroom shortly, but he was feeling even more indolent now.

"Got it." she said, stretching her arm out to claim said access key. Standing, she padded over to the door and unlocked it, using the little brass barrier to keep it from locking behind her. Once in her own room, she grabbed her bag and pulled out her clothes for the day; a pair of jean leggings and a bright blue top with tie straps. It was actually supposed to be a dress, but it was too short for her piece of mind, hence the leggings. Lastly, she retrieved her shampoo and conditioner from her shower, bundling everything in her arms and heading back into Tom’s room.

He was still curled up on the bed, long limbs tangled in the sheets and blankets. “Now there’s a sexy photo shoot right there.” she teased him, mimicking taking pictures of him.

Tom gave a smoldering look and twisted into an exaggerated pose before bursting into giggles.

"Keep that up and I will go fetch my sketchbook and draw you like one of my French girls. Or something like that." she laughed. "Come on, bedbug, get up… tub time."

Tom flopped back on the bed and made a rude noise, but he untangled himself from the bedding and got out of bed, stretching.

She smiled and headed into the washroom, setting her things down. “How hot do you like the water?” she called over her shoulder as she bent down to start the water running.

"Fairly hot," he answered. He could see her through the open bathroom door and was enjoying the view. He followed her, and noticed the spill of random items on the dresser top. Picking up her mobile from the pile, he tapped on the display, and then returned it to its place without pausing.

"Fairly hot. OK." she nodded, turning up the heat to it was just hot enough to make her skin tingle. "Going to join me, Tom?" she asked, half turning towards him, not noticing that he’d been at the dresser at all.

With a devilish grin he padded the last few steps to the room. Without the need to shed any clothes, he slipped into the shower next to her. The water rained down over their bodies, puffs of steam billowing up around them.

She stepped under the spray first, wetting down her hair, the unruly curls quickly heavy and slicked back with the water. She’d never really showered with anyone else before and wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be sexy or if she was expected to see to her own bathing or what. “I’m… at a bit of the loss,” she admitted once she was rinsed down thoroughly. “I don’t know where to start. Showering with someone is not something I’ve done before.”

Tom chuckled softly. He took up her shampoo, uncapped it, and drizzled a stream of the contents over her head. Setting down the bottle, he worked it through her hair with both hands, building up a froth of lather and messaging it deep.

She laughed, tilting her head back so she could look up at him, and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Well, that answers that question. Mmm, talented fingers.”

He simply smiled at her, holding the back of her neck as he rinsed the suds out under the shower spray. He repeated the whole process, being thoroughly gentle. While it was completely sensual, it wasn’t overtly sexual. “Good?” he asked.

"Very good." she nodded once he’d rinsed off her hair. "My turn then?" she said, taking the hotel shampoo and carefully working it through his soft, short hair, using her nails to gently massage his scalp.

He obligingly stooped a bit so she could reach him, bent forward slightly with his hands on his thighs. It was an oddly intimate gesture, again more trusting than arousing.

She giggled and kissed his forehead. “Here we go… switch places with me so we can rinse you off.” she said, gripping his shoulders and maneuvering them into something of a circular dance step so their positions were reversed, him under the spray and her facing him.

It took some doing—the tub was slippery and the space quite cramped, but he managed to position himself so the lather rinsed off his hair and ran down his neck and shoulders. The steam was making his hair crinkle up in wavy loops, dark and dripping raindrops. “I think we can each soap up ourselves,” he said, offering her one of the washcloths, “Since we’re actually trying to get clean. But maybe we can help each other with the hard-to-reach spots.”

"How do you even have hard-to-reach spots with arms this long?" she teased him, taking the washcloth and washing herself down. Her back was really the only thing she had trouble reaching on her own.

"Well, I do," he confessed, doing the same with his own washcloth. "The rest of me is also long, after all." He realised what that sounded like and burst out laughing.

"I will definitely agree to that, O You-Who-Kept-Hitting-My-Cervix." she laughed along with him, reaching around him with her washcloth to wash his back, both cloth and hands rubbing over him.

Tom’s laughter gave way to a happy hum as she scrubbed him down. She was half embracing him in the effort. He felt a heat that had little to do with the water temperature hit his face at her comment and resisted the urge to glance down. He had already had enough of a workout in that department for the time being, although the image of bending her over the side of the tub and watching the water flow down her back and that so-round behind as they fucked was a very appealing one. 'Not without protection,’ he told himself silently. 'And stop being so damned greedy!’

She was having her own bout with greediness of that kind. The feel of Tom’s body, slick with water and soap was actually very sensual. The muscles of his back were strong and hard, even in his relaxed state, his shoulder blades sharply angled against her fingertips. “You are so gorgeous.” she whispered, almost inaudible over the sound of the water.

"Still think so, after your one-on-one?" he teased softly. "Jen, you have no idea…This weekend has been so important to me…" He let the comment fall down the drain with the water drops. He really didn’t want to bring up any of that, or so he kept telling himself.

"Of course I do. Sleeping with you hasn’t changed my opinion of you… except perhaps to make it even more favorable." she smiled up at him, standing somewhat precariously on her toes to kiss him gently. "It’s been important to me too. I know, for you, this is likely a sort of one-night stand situation and I shouldn’t expect anything else. Not because you are taking advantage of me or anything like that but… because you’re a handsome, talented actor and… you have more important things on your plate than a chick in Chicago."

Tom frowned. “Is that what you think this has been?” He tilted her chin up to him, looking at her intently through the steam. “Seriously, you think this was all about…about just what we did in bed? Oh, Jen, Jen…!”

She bit her lip, instantly feeling horrible. “No, no… I don’t think it was all about having sex. God, no. I just meant that… I know that you and I are… probably on completely different levels. I don’t want to turn into crazy stalker girl after you leave tomorrow. Always trying to flag you down and get your attention when there are probably a million other things pulling at you. I don’t want to do that to you. You’re an exceptional man and you have a tremendous heart and… I know you wouldn’t ignore me. Not after last night. But… how can I make you try to juggle one more thing?” she shook her head and looked down guiltily. “Much as I may want to… fuck, am I making any sense?”

Tom turned, shut off the shower, and wrapped a towel around her. He wrapped one around his hips and stepped out, offering her a helping hand. Not caring that the wet towels would soak through, he led her over to the sofa and sat down with her. “Look,” he started, “I know that it might seem like this was some kind of…fling, or something, but really, it wasn’t. It isn’t. I appreciate you saying that you have no other expectation of me after today, but I assure you none of this was just so I could slum around and just….” he stopped for a moment. “From the first moment, you have allowed me to step back from this mad fame and all the difficulties that has brought. Just a woman showing a man around the city, and yes, having sex.. just enjoying each other, without any conditions, wonderful sex, amazing sex, truth be told. But you are not unimportant, my schedule and life be damned! I woke up this morning reluctant to leave, to have this end, and that’s the truth. I haven’t had this kind of intimacy in…” He stopped abruptly, feeling a bit pathetic.

She shifted, wrapping the towel around her a bit more securely before sitting down with him, her hair streaking over her shoulders and down her back in wet curls. She looked up at him as he spoke, a slightly worried expression on her face, as though she was afraid to even dare hope. “I… it’s been a long time for me too… both for the sex and the intimacy.” she reminded him gently. “Are you… are you saying..? What are you saying exactly, Tom?” she asked, taking his hands in hers, her thumbs tracing over the backs.

He looked pained. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m getting at, Jennifer, only that I’ve been very careful about keeping my private life out of the media, for good reason. I don’t regret doing that, but it does leave me having to explain to you why this weekend—in particular, this weekend with you—has been so important to me.” He hesitated. “This wasn’t about sex, our sleeping together. I mean, it wasn’t just about sex.” He sighed. “I haven’t had very much success with relationships. Not recently and not for a couple of years. That’s not to say I haven’t had sex—I have—but ahm, it has been a mutual physical thing, for the most part. Not a relationship, never something like that. There’s something about this professional success that’s really damaged my trust in such things, so, when you just helped me, an apparent stranger—not letting on that you knew, that you were a fan—and then when you did, it didn’t seem weird. It just seems…normal. Two normal adults acting on an attraction, if that makes sense.”

She nodded, thinking she understood at least in part. “So… where do you want to go from here?” she asked him gently, trying to be as un-demanding as possible. “I mean… if you want to say this weekend was great, but it was a one-time chance thing and probably won’t be repeated… that’s okay. I’ll be sad because it’s been wonderful and I really like you a lot and you’ve been really sweet to me. But it’s okay.” she said, although she couldn’t help tearing up a little at the thought. “On the other hand… if you want to make a go at making this into a relationship… whether it’s a romantic one or friends-with-benefits or even just friends… then I am more than amiable to that. And I will try my hardest not to make you regret it.”

Tom ran his hands through his rapidly drying curls in agitation. “I don’t know what I’m asking of you,” he exclaimed. “I don’t even know what I’m asking of myself. I just want us to enjoy the rest of this time together, even if there’s nothing else, but I want you to know this wasn’t casual for me. I find you incredibly attractive, Jennifer, and not just physically. Plus, having sex with you…it’s, it’s just incredible, you’re so relaxed and you enjoy it…oh, that sounds so…!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “I’m not being very eloquent at the moment, but can’t stand the thought of you thinking of yourself as insignificant, or that it was just meaningless sex.”

She smiled and held him by the shoulders, prompting him to look at her. “Tom, calm down. It’s fine. We’ll play it by ear and see what happens, okay? No pressure. I know it wasn’t just casual sex for you. It wasn’t for me either.” She leaned in, kissing him gently. “You’re so sweet. You really are. I think most guys would have panicked and lit on out of here the second the conversation went a little serious.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry, that was a bit too serious, wasn’t it, especially before breakfast?” he remarked. He reached his arms up and around her, drawing her close for a still damp hug.

"Not at all. Better to talk about it now in person than later through email or whatever method of communication we wind up using." she assured him, hugging him back and smoothing his hair back. “Speaking of breakfast, that is also a very important conversation."

Tom let go, leaning back on the sofa and chuckling. “It is, indeed. Don’t even argue; you are an exceptional individual, Jennifer. You’d have to be to shift topics that seamlessly.”

"I spent a long time working in customer service and I still kinda do. I am a master of the segue." she laughed softly. "I believe you wanted room service, yeah? There’s got to be a menu around here somewhere."

Tom leaped up to grab the room service menu, nearly losing his towel in the process. Barely protecting his modesty, he caught it with one hand and began to roar with laughter. With his other hand he held the menu aloft, waving it. “Got it,” he announced triumphantly. “Maybe we should put on something more substantial, though.”

She laughed. “I don’t know… it would be a shame to ruin your reputation as being incapable of answering the door in anything other than just a towel.” she teased him. “I forget which director it was that said that about you.”

"I believe that was on ‘War Horse’," Tom remarked.

"Probably. I know you told the story about losing your towel while trying to get your suitcase out of the closet. And you were ‘slightly fractious’ because of having had a cold shower. That choice of words always made me laugh." she smiled.

"Any particular reason?" he asked, glancing over the menu.

"I used to work in vet clinics and animal shelters and the term for cats that basically want to take your face off was ‘fractious’. I’m taking about cats that pretty much had to be anesthetized in order to touch them. Hearing you apply that term to yourself just seemed so incongruous to me that it struck me as very funny." she explained.

Grinning, Tom just shrugged. “Not my shining moment, I admit. And a lesson on being at least somewhat presentable before opening the door to hotel staff…or anyone else, for that matter.”

She nodded. “A very valuable life lesson… that most of us learned at least by pre-school. Do they not teach that in fancy British preschools?” she teased him reaching over to flick his ear playfully.

"Oh, they certainly don’t. There are mandatory lessons in exhibitionism, with advance studies in potty words." He brushed away her hand from his ear. "I’ve had to overcome years of indoctrination."

"That explains why I’ve seen almost every British actor naked or nearly naked at some point. And why you all still sound fantastic while swearing." she replied without missing a beat.

“Well, this naked British actor is fucking hungry,” Tom retorted with a grin. “Want to look over the menu?”

"Yes." she nodded, taking it from him and looking it over. "Would it be terribly gauche of me to go for the Signature breakfast, which seems to be a little bit of everything?"

"I was considering that, myself. Go for it; why not?" Tom continued searching the menu from over her shoulder. "I think I’ll go for the Eggs Benedict, though, and maybe, hm…fruit? The fruit plate would go well with that."

"Sounds good." she nodded. "And tea. We require judicious application of tea."

Tom made a face. “Won’t be proper tea, I’m willing to bet. Still, tea is required, yes.”

"Well, how does one go about making ‘proper’ tea?’ she asked genuinely curious. "I mean, I had tea in London, of course. And that was likely properly brewed. But I wasn’t exactly present for the process."

Tom expression brightened as he went to the bath, grabbed a robe from the washroom door and handed it to her. “It’s a whole ritual, trust me. Lots of details about kettles, boiling water, tea leaves, steeping time…Brits rival the Far East in our passion for tea.”

She stood and shrugged into the robe, using her towel to wrap up her still wet hair. “So, how do you do it? You must have a favorite tea.”

"Sounds a tad stereotypical, I know, but I do love a cup of Earl Grey with a splash of milk."

"I do like Earl Grey. But I’m partial to English Breakfast myself. Two sugars. Milk is negotiable." she smiled as he moved to the phone to place their room service order, still only wearing a towel around his hips, although it was now securely in place.

He paused at the phone, looking impressed. “Hm. Would be nice to have a real cuppa, but alas, not likely in an American hotel, even one as posh as the Palmer.” He rang up the concierge and placed their order. “I really should get something more substantial on,” he remarked, glancing at the towel.

"Probably. Although I am enjoying the view myself. The poor concierge who brings up breakfast might not be as appreciative." she smiled, picking up his jeans from the day prior, still folded neatly on the chair where she’d placed them. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Tom replied, slipping them on and carefully zipping up. His mobile went off, and he reached over and unplugged the charger. "Excuse me a moment; I need to take this call," he said.

"Sure thing. I’ll tidy up." she said, discreetly slipping back into her own room to give him a little bit of privacy. She picked up her bag and dug out her work clothes from Friday, spreading them on the neatly made bed. She would have to see if maybe the hotel could wash them so she could wear them again on Monday.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further shenanigans. :)

Tom moved off to one side of the room, mobile pressed to his ear. “Hello…Yeah, yeah, it’s been great…I sent a text on Friday. Yes, I got your message. Yes… oh, c’mon, I certainly can! No, really, I’ve just been off the grid, so to speak. Right, yes, got it…uh-huh… no. No…why, what have you heard? See, stop your fussing, I don’t need a nanny, do I? Yes, very much needed, I assure you. I’ll give you details later. No, nothing really, not today. All right then… right, got the time. I’ll be there, not to worry. See you soon! Yeah, yeah… bye!”

It was difficult not to listen in, but it took very little imagination to figure out who he was talking to. “Luke?” she smiled, coming back into the room once he had hung up. “AKA your surrogate mother?”

"None other," Tom replied. "Just doing his job and keeping me on schedule."

"Good boy." she nodded, sitting back down on the couch and curling her legs under her. "So… do we have any idea what we want to do on your last day and night in Chicago?"

"I’d say we’ve pretty much done what we wanted to do, didn’t we?" he replied with a smirk. "We still have breakfast yet." His face shifted into a more pensive expression. “We could just hang out here, too. Unless you have some other places you’d like to show me."

"We could stay here and hang out. The hotel TV channels are kind of limited, but I did bring my laptop with me and between my Comcast access and my Netflix account, we could watch movies or TV… or we can listen to music. And talk, of course. I’m all for more conversation." she suggested, trying to set her still-wet hair to right with a purple comb.

Tom threw back his head and laughed. “Yes, yes, we could, indeed!” he exclaimed. “Movies, music and good conversation; I’m all for it. And breakfast, of course, when that gets here.” He flopped down on sofa. “A normal, lazy Sunday morning… that would be perfect, actually.”

She grinned at his enthusiasm. “I’ll got get my laptop then. We can set it up on the chair and then watch it from the bed. Or even set it on the bed if we’re careful not to kick it off.” she said, abandoning the task of her hair for a moment, which was slowly drying into unruly ringlets.

Tom watched Jen rush back through the doorway in a flash of the bathrobe and half-dry curls. He fell into the sudden memory of other Sundays in years past, of eating breakfast in front of the television still wearing pyjamas and reading the funnies and bickering with his sisters and all sorts of familiar comforts. It seemed an entire lifetime ago, almost as if it was someone else. Oh, dear lord, he wasn’t so old as to be nostalgic, was he? What was it about this woman that made him so…what? Calm?

She returned quickly with her laptop bag, setting it up easily since the process was practically second-nature to her at this point. “I have some movies saved on the hard drive too… but they are all YOUR movies, so I don’t think you want to watch them with me.” she winked at him.

"Heh," he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes and across his forehead. Not calm, exactly, no. It was something else, something elusive…"How about Disney films? Have a favorite?"

"Oh honey. You think you get going about Shakespeare? I get going when Disney is the conversation." she grinned, quickly clicking on a bookmark in her browser where she knew pretty much every Disney movie ever was archived. "I know yours is Jungle Book. Do you want to watch that?"

"I’m always willing to watch ‘The Jungle Book’," Tom remarked. He patted the sofa next to him, urging her to bring over the laptop and rest next to him.

It took very little searching to find the right link for the Jungle Book and she was soon cuddled up next to him, the laptop half on her thigh and half on his. “There we go. Nice and cozy.” she smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It is nice and cozy," he agreed. He draped an arm around her and rested his chin on her head. Mowgli had just been kidnapped by the monkeys after his meeting with Baloo when room service arrived; fortunately, the staff was spared hearing their rendition of ‘Bare Necessities’ from the scene before.

She paused the movie while the bellhop set out their breakfasts on a sideboard table, glad to see Tom tip the fellow nicely. That was an excellent way to remain in her good graces. Far too many people gave lousy tips. “Breakfast in bed?” she teased, setting the laptop at the foot of the bed so she could get up. “Oh my god, they sure don’t skimp on the servings, do they?”

"They certainly don’t!" There was enough spread out to feed a small army. "Should we set that over here? We can eat by the table and still watch; I’ll make a mess if I eat these eggs in bed."

"Good point." she nodded, fetching the laptop and re-plugging it in on the table. Once the movie was playing again, she began to eat, starting with the eggs and bacon.

Tom dug into his Eggs Benedict, savoring each bite. It was delicious, and just what he needed. As predicted, he wasn’t impressed with the tea, but the fruit platter was drizzled with mint syrup and made an excellent counterpoint to the eggs.

“Poor you having to cope with sub-par tea.” Jen laughed at him affectionately. “Ooh… Shere Khan. I always did like Shere Khan. I was always somewhat annoyed that the bad guys were often cats in Disney movies.”

“Well, in The Lion King, they were both,” Tom pointed out.

"Yes, but I was no longer a kid when Lion King came out. I was in high school by then." she reminded him. "Aristocats notwithstanding. I didn’t actually see that one until college. But I’m pretty sure I have seen all of the Disney animated features."

“Quite an accomplishment!” Tom stated with a grin. “I’m not sure that I’ve seen all of them, but I’ve seen a fair amount.”

"You work for Disney. I’m surprised they haven’t tied you to chair and made you watch them all." she laughed, watching Mowgli tie Shere Khan’s tail around a burning branch and sending him scurrying off.

"I meant as a child," Tom corrected. "I love Disney, and not just because I work for them. I grew up with this." He waved toward the laptop screen.

"I think everyone since the 1930s did." she smiled. "When I was a kid, I was all about the ones with animals. Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmatians, Robin Hood, Great Mouse Detective. It wasn’t until Beauty and the Beast came out that I started liking the faerie tale ones more."

"We’re pretty much the same age, you know," Tom reminded her. "Same movies. But yeah, most of the movies around that time had animals, didn’t they? Never thought of that."

Jungle Book ended and she clicked back to the main page. “There now… we watched your favourite. Now it’s time for my favourite.” she smiled, not letting him see what she clicked on.

Tom mopped up the remainder of egg yolk with savory bread pudding and ate it before starting in on the fruit. The laptop started up with another film.

She resumed nibbling at her pancakes as the choir began to sing and the song Bells of Notre Dame began. “This film is considered part of the Disney Renaissance, but it’s very different in its format and subject matter.” she said softly.

"Only Disney would attempt to animate a classic like ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’," Tom observed. "Not exactly what comes to mind when one thinks of Disney films, to be sure, but Disney never really shied away from darker stories. Look at Snow White, or Bambi."

"I did a whole thesis on dark themes in Disney movies when I was in college." she smiled. "I did a character design set for Cyrano de Bergerac, which is, of course, a tragedy. Part of my thesis had to deal with why I chose something so unlikely for an animation project."

Tom frowned. “I don’t recall a Disney animated Cyrano…did I miss that one?”

She laughed. “No no, *I* designed the characters of Cyrano as if they were going to be in a Disney animated film.” she clarified.

"Ah," Tom replied. "That would be an interesting adaptation, though."

"I’ve always loved Cyrano. I wanted to be his Roxanne so much. He deserved her love… but he just could not accept it for himself." she said, leaning against his shoulder as they continued to watch Hunchback Notre Dame. "And, getting back to the film we’re actually watching… have you ever read the original novel by Victor Hugo?"

"In French? No, my French isn’t that good."

"No, in English… although some translations are better than others." she amended.

“Well, then, yes, I read a translation of it. That, and ‘Les Miserables’.”

"Then you know that Frollo was also a rather sympathetic character… like most of Hugo’s books, there is no villain, per se… just anti-heroes. Frollo didn’t really have anything against gypsies. He just had zero idea how to cope with the fact that Esmeralda gave him a huge boner. He’s 36 and that had never happened before, so of course he freaked out."

Tom coughed, nearly inhaling a strawberry from the fruit platter. “I think they glossed over that part in the Disney version,” he laughed.

"Not as much as one would think." she laughed, clapping him on the back as he sputtered. "Although, listen to Hellfire carefully… there is no mistaking what he is actually singing about."

"Oh, that is so wrong!" tom howled after listening to the lyrics as instructed. "Wonderful! That’s perfect! Now I’ll never be able to watch this without thinking of Frollo with a hard-on!" He collapsed in a fit of giggles.

She laughed. “What the hell did you THINK he was singing about? He sure wasn’t offering to take her to the opera when he said ‘choose me or the fire’!”

"Oh, I understood he was smitten, so to speak, but you don’t think of him having a hard-on—his first hard-on, at thirty-six?! Really? That’s just mad! And you know, it’s a Disney film, a classic novel…I don’t really watch Disney with that in mind."

"No, no… not his first hard-on. Just the first hard-on that he couldn’t simply ignore. In the book, he tends to eschew women in general because they tempt him. He *knows* that’s his weakness and he does everything in his power not to be confronted with that kind of temptation. Then Esmeralda comes along and interrupts his works and he sees her dancing in the square and he’s totally hooked." she said.

"Well, that at least makes more sense, but seriously, that is not the image I want to envision whilst watching a Disney film."

"Oh, poor you. Because freaking out due to experiencing real desire for the first time is so much more scary than a woman wanting to skin puppies." she teased him, reaching up to tousle his hair.

"Oh, please, I was just as terrified of Cruella DeVille…what kind of evil person would want to wear puppy pelts?" Tom exclaimed, shivering. "It’s not the same thing."

She smiled and kissed his cheek playfully. “You’re adorable. And I think even Loki would look at Cruella and decide that she has some serious issues.”

"Yes, I imagine so." Tom offered the plate of fruit to her. "Want some? I can’t finish it all right now."

She took a piece of melon off of the plate and nibbled at it. “Save the rest, it’ll still be good when we get hungry again.” she said. “Come on… back to the bed?” she asked, knowing it would be far more comfortable in the bed than sitting at the desk as they were.

Tom put the platter down, nodding. He gathered a small cluster of grapes and crawled back onto the bed, propping himself up against the head board.

She curled against him, head on his shoulder. Her curls had dried fully now into long, unruly ringlets that refused to be fully pushed one way or the other.

Tom nibbled on the grapes, licking at the mint syrup on his fingers. Dangling the cluster in front of her, he offered her one of the grapes as the video played on.

"Thank you, Marc Anthony." she teased him, craning her neck to take the grape off with her lips and teeth instead of her fingers as might be expected.

He ate another and fed her another, and set aside the empty stem. He brushed her lips with his fingertips, sweet and mint-scented.

She flicked her tongue out to lick at his fingertips playfully. When he moved as if to pull them away, she gripped his wrist gently, sliding her lips around one fingertip to suck gently. She was not normally this bold, but something about Tom had always aroused her to fever levels very quickly.

Tom let her suckle his fingers, first one, then another. His other hand took the laptop from her and set it down next to her, undoing the belt of her bathrobe. He rolled over next to her, sliding down her side.

"Tom?" she questioned him breathlessly, wondering what he had in mind now that the mood had shifted.

Wordlessly he pushed open the robe. Gently he knelt between her legs, urging them apart and then he bowed forward, his hands reaching around to cup her bottom and lift her hips to him.

She gasped softly, not used to being so exposed in broad daylight. Most of her previous experiences had been in the dark where she felt secure in knowing touch was the main focus. She blushed red as he spread her legs, leaving her open and vulnerable.

His lips met her folds, planting soft kisses along the ridges, his tongue teasing along each sensitive edge. As she moaned and arched to him, his kisses grew more forceful, and he licked and sucked and flicked his tongue from the hard nub to the ruffled depths.

"Tom!" she cried out, one hand grasping the sheets beneath her, the other shooting into his hair, fingers trembling. It wasn’t that she’d never had this done before… but she did not believe it had ever been done quite so skillfully. "Oh god… Tom…" she keened, hips trembling as she tried to keep still, letting him decide where to touch her.

Tom draped her legs on his shoulders. He lapped his tongue across her again and again, humming eagerly as he caught the pearl hidden in her apex and rolled it in his mouth, sucking and flicking it.

She swore in a chanting voice, panting hard as her fingers curled in his hair, not pulling him closer or pushing him away, just tightening whenever a new jolt of pleasure rode through her. “Fuck… fuck fuck fuck…” she repeated, her voice going higher with each syllable until it was practically a squeak.

Tom chuckled deep in his throat, still humming. His hands slid along her arse, his thumbs tracing inward and thrusting inside her even as he continued consuming her. God, she was delicious!

She gave a sharp cry when his fingers delved inside of her. Her hips bucked hard, seeking more penetration, the soft folds now very wet from the ministrations of his mouth. “Oh god, Tom… please…!” she begged him, not even really sure what she was asking for except for more.

He moved his fingers faster, his lips locked to her flesh, and he urged her on with eager, passionate sounds. He could feel her legs shake, her hips strain to buck, and he went on relentlessly.

"Tom!" his name came out as a half-choked scream as she came, insides clenching at him tightly in hard, rhythmic pulse, her entire body all but convulsing in pleasure. For what seemed like endless minutes, she writhed and panted and cried out for him. Tears pricked at her eyes as she began to come down from it, still shaking and clinging to him.

He drew his thumbs out slowly and knelt back, lowering her hips down. “Mmmm,” he purred. “That was delicious.”

"That was… amazing…" she said breathlessly, blinking up at him and reaching up to grip his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her so she could kiss him. Tasting herself on his lips and tongue was oddly pleasing in its own right. "God, that was incredible…"

"That…" Tom grinned, "…was pudding, and only fair considering what you’ve given me." He kissed her again, firmly. "And I mean it; you are delicious."

She smiled, licking her lips. “I’m glad you think so.” Her hands slid up and down his sides and back, reveling in the feel of his long, lean body. She leaned up, pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to his shoulder and collarbone, vaguely following the path his freckles made on his skin.

He propped himself up on his forearms, shivering with pleasure when Jen found a particularly sensitive spot. “I wish more women enjoyed sex as much as you,” he remarked quietly.

"Do other women not?" she asked softly before continuing his leisurely exploration of his skin. Her legs still spread, she cradled him between them, even though he was still wearing his jeans.

He at least had the decency to blush. “Ah, no, not entirely. Not in my experience, anyway.”

"Sucks to be them. I love sex… particularly with a guy who knows what the hell he’s doing." she grinned, leaning up to capture his mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss.

"Oh, well, thank you for that compliment!" he murmured, lingering on the kiss.

She moaned softly into the kiss. “It’s really hard to believe that you’ve been with women who somehow didn’t enjoy sex. Who have you been with that didn’t?” she asked curiously, knowing he was totally within his rights to refuse to answer.

"To be fair, I suppose it’s not that they didn’t enjoy sex; it might have simply been that they didn’t enjoy sex with me," Tom tried to clarify. He sighed. "I have had relationships, several of them, and I’ve had casual sex a few times, also, although it’s not my norm. One was a long term one that didn’t end well, and there was another…she was very good at sex, it’s just she had, ah, issues about how good, and it…well, it had some impact on our interactions, I guess one would say." He paused. "I meant it as a compliment, I hope you understand that. I enjoy sex too; I just don’t often have a partner who is as comfortable with it as you are."

She smiled, leaning up to silence him with a gentle kiss. “Well, I’m glad that you appreciate the simplicity of just enjoying sex and enjoying sex specifically with the person you’re with.” she teased him lightly, not wanting him to get into too deep a conversation. “And, to be clear… you are very, very good at sex. Plus, you are just an amazing man anyway… so the sex is icing on the cake.”

He actually looked sheepish. “Aw, bless you for saying that; I truly do appreciate it.”

"You’re welcome." she smiled, sliding one hand up into his curls to draw him into another kiss. "So… any ideas on what we should do now that Hunchback is over?" she asked playfully. "Y’know… considering that you’re already on top of me and I’m very, very wet."

"You certainly are," he confirmed. "I’m open to suggestions."

"Mmm… well, what I have in mind will involve you losing those jeans and possibly us needing to take another shower later." she laughed softly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jen spend their last afternoon together.

Smiling, Tom pushed up from on top of her and unbuttoned the jeans, easing the zipper down carefully.

She smiled, pushing at the waistband, helping him shimmy out of them, leaving them in a heap at the foot of the bed. Fingertips drifted lazily over his rear end and hips before sliding around to his front, wrapping carefully around his cock and stroking him. “Much better.” she purred, leaning up to kiss him.

"You certain want to do this?" Tom asked, his gaze intent on what she was doing with her hands. "We’ve already had a fairly busy morning. Not that I’m complaining, by any means."

"If I wasn’t certain, I wouldn’t be naked underneath you right now." she pointed out, still stroking him with sure fingers. "Although I think we need another condom…”

Tom moved back, gently disengaging her hands from him. “Got ‘em,” he announced, going to his travel bag and retrieving the foil packs.

She remained laying on the bed with her legs spread, hoping she presented a suitably erotic sight. Her cheeks were still pink with embarrassment, but her eyes were bright with the desire to keep this going. “Look at us, being responsible adults.” she smiled.

"We’re both sexually active adults and we’ve had multiple partners," Tom replied, "Protection is part of that." He had been aroused again when he went down on her, but the movements had left him needing more before he could keep the condom on. He opened one of the packets in preparation. "Anything in particular you’d like to do, darling?" he asked.

"Mmm… well we could start making out like teenagers and just see where that takes us." she smiled. "Granted, I don’t think I ever properly made out as a teenager… so I’ll have to make out like a twenty-something."

"Oh, I don’t know, I think we’re both past the ‘awkward make-out session’ of the teen years," he remarked, climbing back onto the bed. "I’m serious, though; do what you want with me. I assure you I’m not shy."

"Mmm… well, I do love your hands and your voice. And you’ve described yourself as being very tactile." she bit her lip. She wanted him to touch her and whisper to her… but it was very hard for her to specifically ask for what she wanted, especially when it seemed a bit selfish on her part. So, she tended to make suggestions in somewhat vague terms.

"So…you want to play Blindman’s Bluff while I recite sonnets?" he teased.

"Yes, that is exactly what I had in mind." she huffed in mock-exasperation. "I want… I just… argh… why is this so hard for me?" she growled at herself. "I feel like asking for what I want is rude. Self-imposed sexism."

Tom raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s exclusively female or male a trait, but I’m surprised that it’s an issue for you. I don’t find it rude at all.”

"I just… don’t want you to think I’m weird or needy or… anything bad." she sighed. "Even though I know damn well that what I want right now is hardly out of the ordinary. I just want you to touch me and kiss me and tell me I’m pretty and…" she drifted off, realizing she’d wound up asking for what she wanted mid-mini-rant. "Shit. Sorry… that was way brasher than I intended it to be."

His expression shifted from surprise to concern. “Jennifer…it’s fine, truly it’s all right to just tell me.” He set down the condom and reached out a hand to her, helping her sit up. “Come here,” he instructed, moving her to the edge of the bed and sitting down next to her, hugging her with one arm. The robe had slipped down her shoulders to her elbows, and his hand grasped her upper arm, holding her close. He leaned his head against hers, kissing her tenderly. “You are pretty,” he whispered. “You’re pretty, and I want to kiss you…” he turned her face to his, tilting it up to him and kissing her slowly, gently, once, twice and again. “I want to touch you….” he continued, his hand stroking her arm down to the elbow, then back up over her shoulder. He reached around and traced her collarbone and the small of her throat.

Her pulse fluttered against his fingertips as she grew excited once more, every touch leaving little trails of pleasure along her skin. She met his kisses eagerly, a soft moan in her throat. She reached across to cup his jawline, tracing the sharp angle.

"I want to drive away this hesitation from you," he said. "I want to feel you shiver beneath my touch. I want to hear you sigh with the pleasure I give you; I want to hear you cry in ecstasy; I want to hear you moan with joy when you come…"

She closed her eyes, shivering already. “Oh god… Tom…” she whimpered, every note of his voice vibrating through her, making her heart skip and her insides twist with need. She leaned against him, using his shoulder to keep her balance. “That’s a hell of a start… but do you… do you like this too? I wouldn’t want you to indulge me if this really does nothing for you.” she fretted a little despite her climbing arousal.

“I like indulging you,” he commented. He took her hand and put it in his lap. “And I’d say it does something for me. Really, it does.” Shifting toward her so he could look her in the eyes, he went on. “I’m not on stage now, Jen. There’s no cameras here, no scripts. It’s just you and me, just Jennifer, just Tom. And I want to spend what time I have left in Chicago with you, doing whatever you want to do. Especially if it involves intimacy.”

She knew what to expect this time, but her cheeks still grew hot when she curled her fingers around him. He was getting harder, pulsing against her fingertips. “Yes, that’s… that’s what I want, too. That’s just what I was getting at. I didn’t want you to think that I was asking you to be a performing monkey.”

"Are you asking me to be a performing monkey?" he asked in a low, sexy growl. He pushed up against her hand teasingly, urging her to keep touching him. He kept his eyes locked on hers, his hands moving along her skin again, exploring.

She laughed breathlessly. “No. I’m asking you to be Tom. Just Tom.” she smiled, stroking up on his cock, smearing the pad of her thumb across the tip gently. “I very, very much want just Tom.”

He groaned, head falling back and hips jerking upward. “That’s what I am, Jen. Just Tom. Just for you.”

That made her smile… the idea that this beautiful, amazing man was hers. Even if it was only for a few more hours. Even if he never said word one to her again after this. “And I’m all yours.” she returned the sentiment, leaning up to kiss him, hand very carefully drifting lower, cupping his balls just to see if he liked that sort of thing.

He let out his breath in a rush, shaking. In the back of his mind he was trying to recall where he had set down that condom, but the sensations were distracting him. Jen didn’t seem to be shy about expressing her wants this way, and for that he was very thankful.

She caressed him briefly before returning to his cock, just letting her fingertips ghost over his skin. “Whatever shall we do with this, hmm?” she chuckled. In a moment of boldness, she slipped her hand between her own legs, scooping some of her own wetness up. Once her fingers were slick, she returned them to Tom’s hardness, stroking. Maybe he couldn’t sample her wetness directly with his cock, but this was a good approximation.

Tom gasped like a drowning man, eyes wide as he snapped his head forward to watch what she was doing. Her scent wafted up between them and his tongue darted out, remembering the taste of her. “You’re delicious, Jennifer,” he purred. “I love the taste of your juicy, ripe quim. I love the smell of it, rubbed all over me like that…” He shuddered with pleasure.

She bit her lip, letting out a soft moan at his words. Even the word quim made her squirm, even if it did remind her a lot of Loki. “Leave it to you to bring Shakespearean words into play during lovemaking. I heartily approve.”

Tom’s hands found her breasts, fingers circling the blush surrounding her nipples. He brushed them, toying with them, even as she continued with him.

‘ When in the chronicle of wasted time

I see descriptions of the fairest wights,

And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,

In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,

Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,

Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,

I see their antique pen would have expressed

Even such a beauty as you master now.’

Tom recited. His eyes were half-lidded, face flushed with mounting excitement, as he continued:

‘So all their praises are but prophecies

Of this our time, all you prefiguring;

And for they looked but with divining eyes,

They had not skill enough your worth to sing:

For we, which now behold these present days,

Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.’

She had no words to respond to that, swallowing hard, her heart pumping almost painfully hard against her ribs. Her body, however, knew exactly how to react, as she could actually feel a fresh gush of wetness at her core. She arched her back for him, pressing her breasts into his hands, moaning when his fingers tugged gently at her nipples, already hard and sensitive. “Oh god, Tom…” she keened softly.

Tom leaned forward, lifting one breast up and lapping delicately at the nipple, still massaging the other. Quiet whimpers emanated from his throat, his hips still bumping his cock against her palms in encouragement.

It became a little bit of a balancing act, one hand stroking him slowly and the other gently fisted in his hair. Her breath came in panting moans as she shifted to try and be closer to him. “Tom… please… ” she whispered, her insides feeling like they were trying to clamp around something that wasn’t yet there.

Tom chased one nipple, then the other, licking, nipping, sucking, until he reared back, breathless. “Condom,” he gasped.

She nodded breathlessly, hand leaving his hair to flail about on the sheets until she found the condom he’d retrieved. She pressed it into his hand, leaning against him to run her mouth along his neck, nibbling gently at the tender junction between neck and shoulder.

Shuddering with pleasure, he ceased his attentions to her breasts and unfurled the condom over his aching flesh. “Stand up,” he requested, as he did so himself.

She stood on slightly unsteady legs, having to use his shoulders and chest to keep her balance. “OK, standing… now what?” she asked breathlessly, face flushed and eyes dark with want.

He turned her around to face the bed, pulling her back against him, hands reaching around to knead her breasts again, the hard, encased length of him pressed against the crease of her arse to the small of her back. He leaned down to kiss along one of her shoulders, one hand falling to her waist, the other probing down between her legs to the sweet wetness there, knowing she was ready for him. ‘Spread your legs a little,” he urged, “And lean on the bed.”

She nodded, stepping so could plant her legs a bit more widely. She was well aware she had thick thighs, after all. Once she was steady and not afraid she was going to do an impromptu split, she leaned forward, bracing herself on the bed. Shivering a little, she looked over her shoulder at Tom, pulling her hair to one side. “This okay?”

"Perfect." He stepped back, hand still stroking her swollen, slick flesh, his other hand gripping himself as he maneuvered into position. He moved his first hand away, over her hip, urging her to crawl forward onto the bed as he rubbed up against her, carefully getting the angle just so. With agonizing slowness, he worked himself in, pulling her closer to him, until her round, ripe arse was flush against him and he was buried as deep as he could go within her.

She moaned in a shaky voice, letting her head hang down between her arms as he slid in to the hilt. God, he fit inside of her so perfectly! And this new angle caused slightly different sensation inside. There was still that sense of stretching and fullness, her insides clenching around him tightly. But the slight curve of him now pressed inside of her more intensely. “Fuck… Tom…” she whined.

He obliged with her request, rocking back and forth, holding her by the hips to steady her, drawing out his length and pushing forward again and again in a building rhythm. Each stroke was punctuated with a small grunt of effort as he pounded into her, his balls slapping against her as his movements grew more intense.

The strength of his thrusts increased and she did her best to push back against them, driving him deeper. The motions made her breasts bounce back and forth, her voice stuttering a bit as she moaned and cried out for him. Unable to match his rhythm for any good length of time, she instead rolled her hips, grinding back against him.

He drove more savagely against her, the steady onslaught staggering as their passion climbed in its intensity. Every sinew thrummed with his effort even as internally she began to clamp around him, his own body tensing. “Close, close, so close,” he hissed.

She nodded. “Me too… just a… little… more…” She reached back and grabbed his right wrist, drawing it over her hip and under her belly, down between her legs, her clit achingly hard and throbbing amidst her wet folds.

Using her own slippery lubricant, he played her like an instrument, urging her on. “Oh, fuck, please!” he begged. “Finish it! Come for me, come with me! For fuck’s sake!” His imploring dissolved into incoherent sobbing demands.

His touch and the sound of his voice in such passion tipped her over the edge. She came in rolling waves, her insides tightening around him in milking pulses. Rearing her head back, she gave a keening wail of his name, her nails digging into the sheets where she struggled to hold herself up.

His hands reached down to her thighs, releasing that throbbing nubbin beneath his fingertips as he reached that point within her that left him no further place to go. Her walls grasping him so tightly that there was for a moment no possibility of more friction, he felt the sharp jerk of his hard balls and the rush of release, and wanted more than anything to be able to feel their climax without the necessary barrier surrounding him. Still, he staggered like a drunkard, taking a care not to lose balance and fall. “Oh, my fucking god!” he exclaimed. “Unreal! Un-fucking-real! This just isn’t possible!”

"What?" she asked in a shaky, somewhat alarmed voice. She wasn’t sure if the astonishment in his voice was of the good or bad persuasion. "What is it? Something wrong?" she bit her bottom lip, holding still as best she could, though her hips still rocked against him ever so slightly.

"Wrong?" he asked, laughing shakily. "Dear lord, no, not at all wrong, just…unreal! In all honestly, I didn’t think it possible…to have this much sex..amazing sex, truly mind-blowing sex…real, glorious sex, not some scripted porn thing, you know; to have this sort of thing…oh, god…" he held her around the waist, leaning down to spoon against her, cradling her close to him. He realised he was bordering on tears and babbling like a fool, and he didn’t care.

Slowly, she shifted and rolled, using her hands to maneuver him along with her until they were both lying on the bed with Tom spooned behind her, his cock still lodged quite securely inside of her. She stroked his arms were they clung around her middle, just under her breasts. “Shhh… it’s OK, Tom… you’re all right. I’ve got you.”

"You do," he agreed, burying his face in her hair. "You do, indeed." He lay next to her, in her, as his heartbeat calmed in his chest. The sun was high in the sky now, and much brighter, but the room settled into tranquility not unlike earlier that morning.

She pressed back against him, both for warmth and just to feel his skin against hers. “Mmm… you are right though… the sex is amazing. And, it’s unusual that it is so amazing. Usually… I mean… in my experience at least… it takes a lot more time for this sort of easy intimacy to develop. But with you… it’s comes so naturally…” she whispered softly, winding the fingers of one of her small hands with his much longer ones.

Tom’s fingers danced with hers, quiet. “I’m glad,” he whispered back. “I’m glad we’re that together. I know you might find this odd, but I’m not usually one for casual sex, and it takes me longer, too, for this kind of connection. Truth is—” and he hesitated, then when on,” —I haven’t ever felt quite this level of, ah, ease, with anyone before. Not this early, certainly.”

"We’re lucky then." she said, though she smiled to herself. Still, she knew it was foolish to get her hopes up. This might not be casual… but there was no chance that a long-standing relationship would come of it either. How could it? He was a busy British actor, already moderately famous and sure to become more so. She was a low-level assistant for a market research company. He spent months at a time on the road in dozens of different countries. Her passport had been expired for five years.

Tom shifted on the bed as he softened and withdrew from her body, careful to catch hold of the condom and removed it as well. He wasn’t about to dive into his private life, even though Jennifer was now a part of it, however briefly. He considered suggesting that they bathe again, or just sleep some more, or maybe even watch another film, then thought the better of it. “What would you like to do now?” he asked, leaving the choice to her.

"Hmmm…" she hummed, stretching out and arching her back once he was free of her. "Well… I’m all for some much-deserved cuddling for a bit. Then… maybe we could go for a walk by the lakefront? Or a bike ride, if you prefer that. There’s Divvy bikes all over the place."

"Mmm," Tom murmured into her hair. "So cuddling—cuddling’s good—and then a long walk. More a stroll, maybe? We’ve had quite enough rigorous exercise otherwise." He gave her a tender squeeze, fingertips of one hand tapping lightly on the back of hers.

"Stroll for you. Still a walk for me given the difference in our strides." she laughed at him gently. "And you may make as many ‘we’re on LSD’ jokes you like."

Tom shook with laughter at that comment. “I’ll try to pace myself,” he promised. He disposed of the condom and sank back into the same position. Together they lapsed into a comfortable silence, their breathing slowing to a steady synchronicity as they held each other on the bed.

She tilted her head back against his shoulder, twisting just enough that she could kiss his cheek gently. “In case I forget to tell you later… this has been an amazing weekend.”

He smiled with a small nod. “It has,” he agreed sleepily, returning the kiss. “It truly has.”

""I’ll admit, I’m not sure what to make of all of this yet. This wasn’t a casual hookup… for either of us. But… I don’t know what, if anything, I should expect afterwards. I mean… I follow you on Twitter, but you don’t follow me, if you take my meaning."

"I can," he noted. "I still check Twitter, even if I don’t post as often anymore. I meant to ask for your number, too, in case I’m ever back in Chicago and need my tour guide." He leaned over her shoulder, brushing back her hair. "I don’t think that’s quite what you mean, though. I haven’t any idea where this is going, either, Jennifer. I’m not even sure what this is. But, at least for the moment, could we just…let it be whatever it is?" Even as he said it, he knew it sounded lame. She wanted to discuss this, and she had every right to wonder what was happening here, what would happen in a few hours, when he left.

"Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood." she nodded, turning around in his arms to face him, leaning up to kiss him. "You’re right. We should enjoy this while we can. And I’ll give you my number when we get up. Of course.”

He sighed, and kissed her back. “You didn’t spoil the mood; we should discuss this, and now is as good a time as any. I just…I don’t know what to say. I told you I’ve never felt this way with anyone before; well, that’s the truth.” He held her, almost as if he was clinging to her for comfort. “Several years back, I had a breakup—a bad one—with someone with which I had a long-term relationship. And I haven’t had a long-term or serious anything since. I haven’t been celibate by any means, but I haven’t had a relationship of any great substance since then. So…I suppose what I’m saying is, coming here, I wasn’t looking for one.” He frowned.

"Neither was I." she said, gently cupping his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. "I haven’t had an actual boyfriend or girlfriend since college. And… when the last one broke up with me… it was devastating."

"Devastating; yes, that’s a good word for it," he agreed. "But before then, when things were good, it wasn’t like this. Not in that relationship, not even after, with…others. This is, ah, well…this is new to me. I don’t generally hook up with women I just met, and this is more than merely a weekend of casual sex—I assure you, this trip was anything but casual. I told you, I don’t do ‘casual’. I just don’t know what this is, exactly, or what to do next or anything, really. "

"So… we’ll play it by ear. If you want to call me, then you call me. If I want to call you, I’ll call you. Assuming you give me your number. No weirdness. Or we can talk on Skype or whatever it is you like to use to stay in touch with people." she suggested.

"I’m going a long way, this next trip. I’m flying out to LA and then on to Korea, China and Australia. But I’d like to keep in touch.”

"Then, we’ll keep in touch." she smiled, hands sliding up into his hair as she leaned in to kiss him gently. "We’ll just… see what happens. Play it by ear, as it were. If it works out, great. If not so much, then we still have this weekend."

"Not much left of it," he observed. "But, yes, we will have had this, if nothing else. So, more cuddling…or are we ready for other forms of exercise?" He smiled, eyes twinkling, voice still gentle. This was much more his style, this ‘come what may’ attitude, and he was far more comfortable with that than the relationship confession game.

"Mmm… I think I can manage to get up from bed and go for a stroll." she nodded, stretching out for a moment, arching her back. "Maybe I can convince you to talk Shakespeare at me some more."

He was loath to move out of this lazy camaraderie, despite the fact that they were both still naked. It was pleasant to simply lie on the pillows and make small talk. “Not that I ever need urging to ‘talk Shakespeare’, as you put it…I’m far better at discussing Shakespeare than rattling off lines by rote, though.”

"All the more reason for you to talk about it at me. I like discussion." she smiled, sitting up next to him, kneeling by his side and leaning down to kiss him, hair falling over her shoulders.

His fingers traced along her arm absently, after leaning up for her kiss. “All right then, come on, let’s get going,” he urged, sitting up and giving a cat-like stretch. “Let’s clean up and get dressed, and we’ll have that discussion as we go along, shall we?”

"Sounds like a plan." she nodded, getting up and retrieving her clothes from where they’d been tossed on the floor. "Another whole shower seems excessive… so maybe just a wet cloth to wipe ourselves off a bit?" she asked.

"I think that will be sufficient for the moment, yes," he agreed and gathered a couple of washcloths from the bathroom for that purpose. It was a quick job to get clean and properly attired once more, remembering to place their breakfast trays outside the door and send out Jen’s laundry as they exited. The sky was bright and clear, with no trace of the previous storms.

She took his hand as they headed towards the lake, crossing through the park. “So… seeing as how it’s a four-hundred-year old play, I assume it’s not like you’ll spoil me for anything. So, what’s Coriolanus about?”

Tom launched into a lengthy synopsis of the plot, the character, and the theater where he’d be performing the play itself, as they walked down the streets, oblivious to the human traffic around them as they made their way eastward to the lake. He was firmly in his element, happily chattering away and matching his long stride to her slower pace.

She listened, waiting for him to take breaths to ask any questions. When Tom mentioned his fellow cast members, she recalled Hadley’s name from the 25th anniversary concert of Phantom of the Opera, in which he played Raoul, and they talked a bit about that. They held hands and, to anyone who cared to watch them, were completely engrossed with each other.

It wasn’t until the large, chrome-covered bean-shaped sculpture entitled ‘Cloud Gate’ [and nicknamed simply ‘the Bean’ by Chicagoans] floated into their view that they paused in the conversation. Millennium Park was quite impressive, even to a Londoner, and he remarked on the beautiful landscaping and architecture of it as they meandered about.

"So, what do you think of Chicago now that you’ve spent some time in it with a Chicagoan?" she asked as they found their way to the edge of the lake. She stopped to pull off her sneakers and socks, walking on the sand in her bare feet.

"I think it’s a magnificent city, and I need to visit more often," Tom replied. He joined her, removing his shoes and sinking his toes into the lakeside sand.

She smiled, walking in the shallow surf and splashing the water about with her feet. After how hot the summer had been, the water was pleasantly cool. “Well, we’d be very happy to have you. This Chicagoan in particular.” she grinned, spinning about to grab his hands and pull him closer. He was so much taller than her that she had to stand on her toes to kiss him. Even then, she had to pull him into a bit of a stoop.

Tom didn’t mind, despite the rashness of such a public display. Fuck it, he just didn’t care at this point. The remaining hours of his vacation were waning, and he simply wanted to enjoy himself. Reality—his reality—was creeping back into his consciousness, and he knew soon he’d be crossing over this vast country on his way to crossing a vast ocean, to engage in a still-startling part of his profession as a film star.

The kiss was sweet and brief, since she knew they couldn’t risk someone snapping a picture to post on the net. She smiled at him with her eyes shining as she backed off a few steps, still holding his hands. “Maybe it’s a bit silly since we just met and all… but I’m going to miss you when you leave.” she admitted.

He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I’ll miss you, too, Jennifer,” he answered quietly. He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. They walked along the shoreline, letting the low waves wash over their feet with a soft hissing rush of bubbles. He fought to hold on to every detail, like snapshots in his memory, not willing to lose a single moment.

"Well, we still have a good amount of time left… what do you want to do? Head back and snuggle some more? Maybe another Disney movie?" she smiled.

"Well, the weather’s nice…" Tom considered, looking up at the sky. "Maybe something outdoors a bit more, then you can introduce me to deep dish pizza." He grinned.

"Ah… you sly thing. You get me out here and foist the idea of pizza on me." she laughed. "Well, that will require shoes. Giordano’s isn’t far from here and they do one of the best deep dish pizzas in Chi-town."

"We should probably rinse off our feet and let them dry first," he suggested.

"Probably. But there’s pizza at stake." she teased him as they found their way to a bench just off of the beach. As was the case along much of the shoreline, there was a little water feature that looked something like a very short water fountain. Jennifer went over to it and used it to rinse the sand off of her feet, staying on the slightly raised concrete ledge it was imbedded in.

"Oh, now, I know that Chicago deep-dish pizza is world-famous,” Tom argued, “but how good could it be? It’s pizza!" He wasn’t all serious, laughing at her mock affronted pout at his comment.

"How dare you. That’s like saying fish and chips is *just* fish and chips." she shook her head at him in mock despair. "Deep dish pizza is *art*, I tell you! ART!"

Wriggling his toes under the spray and still giggling, Tom rid himself of as much of the sand as possible, gingerly leading Jen to the grassy area beyond the beach and the cement walkway to dry their feet. “Far be it from me to question my tour guide,” he laughed.

"That’s right. You really must learn that I am always right." she laughed, striking a Wonder Woman pose before cracking up at herself. "Sorry… I’m a Leo, it’s a running gag in my life."

"And I’m a people-pleasing Aquarius, so I suppose it works well," Tom quipped. The grass was warm under their feet as he had anticipated.

“A dreamy, imaginative, slightly off-kilter Aquarius. And a creative, somewhat of a shy pussycat Leo. Not a bad mix.” she smiled, wriggling her toes in the grass.

The warm sun and air made short work of drying their feet. It wasn’t long before they slipped back on their footwear and Jen led them along the streets once more to the restaurant.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pizza followed by some more sexy time!

She held on to his hand as they threaded their way from Michigan Avenue down to one of the side streets closers to State. Since the lunch rush was over and the dinner rush had not started yet, they were able to get a table in the back relatively quickly.

"So what is the mystique of the deep dish pie?" Tom queried as they looked over the menu.

"No mystique… it’s just fucking delicious." she laughed. "I’d suggest a stuffed pepperoni pie to share. And maybe a salad to split so we can pretend we’re being healthy."

"I bow to your expertise," Tom acquiesced, setting down the menu. Deep dish pizza turned out to be something akin to several pounds of cheese and sauce crammed into a thick shell of pizza dough, and nothing like the type of pizza to which he was accustomed. There was no way he could even consider eating more than a single slice of the thing.

Jen gleeful ate her slice, although she also could only manage one. “Amazing… but yeah, way too much food for one or even two people.” she said, leaning back in her seat. “I say we pack this up and go back to the hotel and spend the rest of this little vacation in bed.”

Tom smiled broadly at her suggestion and nodded.

They got the remaining pizza into a box and headed back to the hotel, her hand in his. They only had hours left and she didn’t want to waste a second of it. Once they were in the door, she turned around, pulling him down for a kiss once more, this time more insistent than the one on the beach.

Shoving the pizza box absently onto the nearest surface, Tom willingly followed her lead. The need for intimacy with her was insatiable; he wondered if that was due to the limited time, or due to how long he had done without this sort of closeness. He decided that, in that moment, his motive was immaterial, and continued kissing her.

She laughed a little when the kiss broke off and she was able to stand fully back on her feet. “I feel like I need to stand on a chair to get up to you.” she smiled, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair.

Without a pause, Tom slid down to a crouch. “No need for that. Besides, there’s rarely a ladder available; one learns to improvise.” He wrapped his arms around her, letting her tousle his hair into a lion’s mane.

She laughed and let her head loll back. “Mmm… good for me, but probably hell on your back. Perhaps we should make judicious use of the bed, hmm?” she said, ambling backwards towards said bed, drawing him with her.

"Again with the bed!" he exclaimed in jest, crab-walking along with her. He lifted her up onto the edge of the bed when they reached it, falling down to his knees as she flopped backward onto the mattress. They both shook with giggling.

She gave a laughing shriek as she tumbled backwards, spreading her legs so she wouldn’t accidentally knee him. When she raised herself back up on her elbows and saw him kneeling on the floor between her legs. It made her wish she had worn a skirt instead of jeans.

Even on his knees and her on the bed he could look her in the eyes, and he did, face flushed from the giggle fit and hair as wild as a dandelion. His sparkling eyes shifted from mirth to a sudden lust as he pulled his shirt off over his head. “So, just want to stay in and watch a show in bed, eh?” he commented, his voice dropping into a velvet purr.

"Only if you are part of the show." she replied glibly, smiling at him with equally lust-bright eyes. She reached for him, fingertips tracing over his bare shoulders and arms. Arching her back, she was able to pull off her own shirt as well, wanting to feel his skin on hers.

Tom stood up, kissing her as he did, letting her fingers wander down his torso. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” he whispered.

She grinned, managing to get her arms behind herself to unhook her bra, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. “A little help, sir?” she smiled, undoing the fly of her jeans and rocking her hips.

Barely touching her, he eased the jeans off her hips and down her legs, drawing them off her body and dropping them by the side of the bed. Standing back again, he kicked his shoes off.

She watched him, biting her bottom lip and blushing. “God, you are fucking gorgeous.” she mused. “I know you refer to yourself as a beanpole, but you are one hell of a *fine* beanpole.”

Tom just smirked, doing an impromptu dance across the carpet as he moved to the washroom, returning with a stack of clean towels and the half-empty sample bottle of lotion. “Does that make you my curvaceous melon, or some such?”

"Well, I certainly have melons, that’s for damn sure." she laughed, running her own hands over her breasts suggestively. "What is it you have in mind, Tom?" she asked, eyeing the towels and lotion curiously.

"My flight is early in the morning, and I have to head off to the airport later, tonight," he stated, dropping the items on the edge of the bed, "And then we’ll have to go on and do whatever we do in our separate lives, you and I." Tom tugged on his belt, unbuckling it and slipping it free from the loops of his jeans. "I must confess that I’ve had more sex this weekend that I’ve had in months; with another, better than I’ve had in years. In fact, I can honestly say it’s been the best sex I’ve ever had, period." He dropped the belt on the floor. "If this was some kind of fairy tale or romance novel, I’d whisk you away with me, in utter disregard for your life, to hell with the consequences, but it isn’t a story, is it? After I’m gone, and we’re alone and half a world apart, I want to remember what we did together. And I want to have the memory, when we do recall this, of what we’ll do to ourselves, in remembering it."

She blushed crimson at that. “And, in my case at least, what I’ve done before while thinking of you.” she admitted, scooting back on the bed to give him room to join her, eyes watching his hands raptly. “So… you want to… watch each other masturbate? Just so we’re on the same page.”

"Yes, that’s what I want," Tom confirmed.

She nodded, thinking that she would need to buy a new dildo in order to even come close to replicating what Tom did to her. “Should I, uh… start?” she asked, laying back against the pillows and shimmying her hips to slide her panties over them and down her legs.

Tom nodded, the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. He watched her as she lost the underwear. His jeans were already tight, the bulge of his erection straining against them. Brushing his hand over it, he undid the button.

She drew in a deep breath, once more watching his hands with hungry eyes. “Yeah… the memory of your cock is definitely going to fuel many a feverish masturbation session.” she said softly, her voice breathy as she slid her hands over her breasts, cupping and squeezing them gently. Her thumbs flicked over the nipples quickly making them hard.

"Just seeing you like this, with your breasts so round and lush, body so eager and wet already….fuck…" He gingerly pulled down the zipper, peeling back his jeans to free himself.

"For you? I’m pretty much always eager and wet." she smiled, one hand leaving her breast to travel over her belly and down between her thighs. She spread her legs wide so he could see, fingers spread her folds open, the flesh pink and slick.

Tom whimpered, shoving down his jeans and cupping himself, his gaze raking over her. Two pink spots appeared high on his cheeks; his lips were flushed a deep rose and slack with arousal.

She moaned softly and let her head fall back on the pillows, fingers gently stroking along either side of her clit, though not directly touching it just yet. Her breath quickened and became a bit uneven, eyes hazy as she watched him. “Oh god… Tom…” she whined softly.

He said nothing, his breath growing more rapid and shallow, as he watched her. He cradled himself with one hand, the other grasping his hard length, thumb rubbing the sensitive tip.

"Tom…" she mewed his name, arching her back and spreading her legs wider. As best she could, she slid two fingers inside of herself, though she could not match the reach or angle of Tom’s fingers. Her hips canted involuntarily, trembling as she tried to seek deeper penetration.

His eyelids fluttered, eyes watering from staring. The very sound of her voice, the slide of her fingers along those slick, glistening folds made his cock twitch in his hand. Still gripping himself, he shifted his other hand to stroke along his belly and torso and neck. He ached to taste her again, to push his stiff flesh into her and feel the pull of those velvety walls around him, but he forced himself to stand and observe her every nuance of self-pleasure.

She chanted his name is a soft, pleading voice, her fingers making wet, squelching noises as they gathered speed. More than anything, she wanted his hardness inside of her. But he had asked to watch her do this and she was more than willing to indulge him. Her clit was aching, peeking out from its sheath as she flicked her finger against it.

Tom grunted with the effort to wait, holding himself so tightly that it almost hurt. The seamless dance she played on her own flesh, the whispers of pleasure that escaped from her lips were egging him on, teasing him with her easy familiarity with her own body and its desires.

"Tom… close…" she whimpered, feeling that telltale tightening low in her belly, the trembling clench that so often heralded her orgasms. "Really close…"

"Good," Tom gasped. He curled forward to grab the lotion and open the bottle, coating his palm with the stuff. "Close is good."

Panting, each breath tinged with a cry of pleasure, she moved her fingers faster. “Tom… Tom… Tom..!” she keened, voice going higher with each shuddering cry of his name. Finally, her voice was stolen all together as her climax washed over her, making her arch sharply, hips convulsing, her legs drawing up as she curled into the pleasure.

A low groan squeezed past his lips as he smoothed on the lotion, just as Jen reached her climax. He stroked hard and quick, picturing his cock in place of her fingers, the tight tug of her around him. He worked at his flesh with both hands. His eyes were locked on Jennifer splayed out on the bed, muscles relaxing into limp satisfaction. “Watch me,” he murmured in a tight gasp. “Watch.”

Still panting softly, she sat up a little, watching him intently. She had a thing for both his hands and his cock… seeing both in action at the same time was amazing beyond words. “Oh god, Tom…” she whispered. “You are… gorgeous.”

He stared back at her with half-lidded eyes, moving with a steady but growing rhythm. It was an unexpected gift, this whole weekend, what Jen had shared with him, more than even she knew, and he wanted to give something back, something unique and intimate and theirs alone. He took the vision of her now as he masturbated for her, knowing he would be able to recall it in the future when he was doing this again, and he offered her the same. “For you,” he whispered, his shoulders hunched forward as his hips jerked and thrust wildly. His head fell back and he moaned as his climax roared through him.

Jen gasped watching him, knowing this sight would probably be burned into the backs of her eyelids forever. Every muscles in Tom’s body went taut, his pale skin flushed with pleasure as he came, spilling hard. Drops of cum spurted out from between his fingers, splattering hotly on her belly and on the bedspread.

Tom’s knees buckled and he knelt on the bed with a strangled gasp, head snapping forward and eyes wide and round. Panting, he reached for the stack of towels. Wrapping one around his relaxing cock, he palmed another and wiped off his hands. Using his elbow, he pushed one over toward her with a nod.

She blushed and took the towel, wiping herself between the legs to wipe away her own fluids before wiping the cum from her skin. Once that was done, she reached for him, gently pulling him on top of her and laying back, cradling him against her. “Tom…” she whispered his name, pressing soft kisses against his temples.

Tom coughed, clearing his throat. His breathing had slowed once more, and he felt a languid bliss flow over him. “Careful,” he warned as she drew him down to her in a gentle embrace. “No protection. We’re going to have to shower. And change the sheets. Sorry I made such a mess…”

"We wiped most of it away. You’re so tall and all, that it’s your stomach between my legs, like this." she reasoned, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "And I have no problem in dealing with this sort of mess."

"All right, then," he nodded, kissing her back. He rested his head on her shoulder, so utterly drained. Beyond being physically exhausted, he was emotionally depleted, and just wanted to hold and be held. He was aware that no matter what he might have thought before, this would not be over by his necessary departure. Time enough to deal with that, however; for now, he just allowed himself to drift in afterglow.

She sighed softly, petting his hair back with one hand, the other lazily stroking up and down his back. She closed her eyes, humming softly, just barely rocking him from side to side. It had been so long since she’d been this intimate with someone and even longer since she had felt comfortable doing so. Maybe it was because she knew so much about him from her involvement in his fandom… but she couldn’t help but feel it was more because of how open and sweet he had been to her this whole weekend.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jen have one more dinner out together.

Holding each other and lost in their thoughts, they fell into a dreamless sleep. It wasn't a long or deep nap, and when they began to stir once more, yawning and stretching, they spent some long, comfortable moments just holding and touching each other before getting up to shower.  
She let him go first, taking the time to set her hair to some rights, combing out the curls carefully so she could wash them more easily. With this little time to herself, she reflected on the weekend and how incredible it had been. Truth be told, she was more than just going to miss him. She'd already been infatuated with him and a diehard fan. After a weekend spent in his company and... well, amazing sex... she was pretty sure she had tipped from mere infatuation into love.  
Tom took the time to do a thorough job of washing up in the bath, happily singing in the shower as he scrubbed. He was wide awake and quite rested as he toweled off, wrapped himself in a robe, and shaved. Packing his few items of clothes and toiletries wouldn't take long, so there was time left for them to spend together. He left the bedclothes at the foot of the bed and went to dress while Jen took her turn in the bath.  
In the shower, Jen's introspection continued as she rinsed off. To keep from over-thinking things, she began to hum to herself. She'd had some professional training and, as such, had a habit of singing show tunes or even opera in the shower. She segued from humming to outright singing, settling on The Jewel Song from Faust, an aria in French that involved a fair amount of trilling.  
Tom smiled to himself, hearing her singing. She had a good voice; strong, confident. Absently, he picked up things on the desk: a pen, a notepad, menu cards, and fiddled with them, laying the items out on the desktop neatly. He wondered what to do with his remaining hours in Chicago, the hours left with Jen. There was the thought of simply staying at the hotel, but that would likely lead to conversations, and awkward subjects. They could still go out, of course, but that seemed oddly formal. He sighed. He'd just do as he usually did, most likely, and just take things as they came.   
Washed and clean, she came out with a towel wrapped around her and another wound around her hair. She smiled at him, seeing him fussing with the things on the desk. "You seem to have a habit of fidgeting with things. Were you one of those little boys that could not sit still to save their life?" she teased him.  
"Oh, I most certainly was," Tom admitted. "Right little hellion, I suspect, like most little boys." He shrugged. "Actually, I wasn't all that bad. I was more the peacemaker of the family."   
"Typical of a middle child." she nodded. "And you were the only boy, so there's that too." She sat on the bed and picked through her Thor bag to find her clothes, this time a pair of black jeans and a loose blue v-neck t-shirt. She changed quickly and then set about combing her hair, deciding to let it air dry so it would retain the natural curl. "Well, we have a few more hours before you have to leave. What do you want to do?”  
"I was just considering that," Tom admitted. "I suppose it's a question of staying in, or going out and about."   
"I'm up for either." she shrugged. "Although, if we go out, we should stay close by. The CSO and their restaurant are right around the corner if you want more Italian food. Or I think there's a French place nearby too."  
"Either would be fine for me," Tom replied. "Do we need to dress more formally?"   
"I don't think so. So long as we're not wearing gym clothes, I don't think they will object." she shook her head. "I've wanted to try Tesori and it is closer. Plus, if there's a performance of the orchestra tonight, they'll pipe the music into the restaurant." she said.  
Tom smiled broadly in anticipation. "Sounds wonderful," he commented. He waved a hand down over the bathrobe. "Let's get dressed, then, shall we?"  
"I *am* dressed. All I'm missing is shoes. You, however, seem to need some help in that direction, sir." she smiled. "Did you only bring two shirts? I hope you have some more luggage meeting you in LA before heading to Asia."  
Tom made his well-known chuckle. "Heh, heh...Luke will have my other bag in L.A., when I get there, hopefully. I've learned to keep a few packed, and I travel light, anyway." He got up, moving to the closet and taking out his luggage bag. He dressed casually, but well enough for a dinner at a nice restaurant: plain white shirt, slacks, and leather shoes. He didn't bother with a tie, but he did carry a sports jacket, just as a precaution.   
She smiled at him, expression appreciative. "Looking good as usual." she nodded in approval. "Seriously, I've been with you this whole weekend and seen countless pics of you online and you've never looked bad. You are ridiculously good looking." she said, standing and smoothing her hands over his shoulders.  
Tom shrugged. "Fortunate genetics," he remarked. "Wish I had seen it more when I was a teen. Hard to see through all the spots and the Willy Wonka wig then." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "And you're quite lovely yourself, you know. Your hair is gorgeous, and blue brings out the color of your eyes."   
"I try." she blushed at his compliment. "Thank you. And, for what it's worth, if we had known each other when we were teens I would have had such a crush on you. I always did like the tall, slender, kinda dorky ones. Extra points for being in drama."  
" 'Kind of dorky'?" he echoed, eyebrows raised. "I'll have you know I was in athletics straight through university, thank you kindly, and the tall, slender part did me no good at all, not academically or socially." He grinned. "Grew out of it, though, luckily enough. Or maybe it's more accurate to say I grew into it, since this is what I'm stuck with. Used my winning personality until then." His grin grew wider.   
"Yes, yes... your stint in rugby. You silly, silly boy." she laughed, reaching up to briefly touch the very faint scar on his upper lip. "And you grew into it beautifully."  
"I was rubbish at cricket and football, so that left rugby. I enjoyed playing it, but I enjoyed drama more, so when I had to choose, I did." He kissed her fingertips, and took her hand. "Ready to go? I don't think we need to rush; we can take our time walking."   
"Ready." she smiled as they headed out the door. "I never did any sports. I'm not particularly coordinated or strong. I was pretty good at volleyball in high school, but that was it. After I graduated college, I was a counselor at a summer camp and I had to take archery with the kids. I actually wound up getting certified as an archer. The instructor said I was a natural at it." she said. "But that's pretty much the extent of my athletics."  
"I have a scene with a longbow in 'Henry V', in the Hollow Crown. It is not an easy thing to use," Tom remarked. "There's a lot of esoteric little details one learns as an actor, especially if one's involved in period pieces."  
"I haven't seen Hollow Crown yet. It doesn't air on PBS until next month. But I've seen plenty of gifs of it on Tumblr. It looks really good." she smiled. "It's three plays, right? And you play the same character in all of them?"  
"Well, I play Prince Hal--Henry the Fifth," Tom corrected, "And I play him in 'Henry IV' and 'V'. The character isn't in 'Richard II'; that's the first part of the series."  
"Right, but Henry IV is in two parts, right... so it's... four plays." she said, looking to him for confirmation. "And you're Prince Hal for Henry IV Parts 1 and 2... and Henry V for, obviously, Henry V?"  
“Yes, you've got it. Henry the Fifth was called Hal before his coronation, or occasionally Harry, although he had a cousin named Henry, also. I know; it's confusing."  
"Your weird Brits and naming everyone Harry." she teased as they made it outside to the sidewalk. "Not that I can talk. My dad's family is all Henrys and Harrys right up until his dad. Do you have any idea how hard it is to do genealogy research with branch after branch of Henry Black?"  
Tom laughed loudly. "I've just the opposite issue; Thomas is common enough; so is William, but with a last name like Hiddleston? Admittedly there's a bit of a Scottish influence there, though."   
"I have a ton of very English surnames in my tree. Black, Bowman, Kelly, Crouch, Brown, Fitch, Wyatt. I read like a who's who of minor characters in Harry Potter." she laughed. "I did find a few fun tidbits. I'm very distantly related to Oscar Wilde on dad's side. And I'm trying to confirm a family rumor that we're descedants of Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet that supposedly had an affair with Anne Boleyn."  
Tom gave her a teasing glance. "I vaguely remember those people from my history lessons," he quipped. "So, you're not only of English descent, but related to royalty...well, associated with royalty, anyway. And related to the great Mr. Wilde, too, to boot!"  
"Oh, speaking of Wilde... if you ever get asked to be in The Importance of Being Earnest, please say yes! You would be so cute as Jack! Or as Algie! I'm not picky." she said. "Not quite what you had in mind for a rom-com, I know... but still lighter than some of the other things you've done."  
Tom just shook his head regrettably. "No, no rom-coms on the horizon for now. I'll have to keep it in mind, though."   
"There is one role I would *love* to see you in... although I doubt anyone's going to be making a film version of it any time soon." she said. "You already did a radio play of it... Cyrano de Bergerac. But you were Christian in that, not Cyrano."  
"Audio work is fun, though," he remarked. "You know, it's a little disconcerting that you know my resume so in depth."   
She blushed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... you're very talented and... I like everything I've seen or heard you in so far."  
He gave her a reassuring hug. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable, darling. It's flattering, when I think about it. I'm just not used to it, is all."  
She nodded, squeezing his hand. "I tend to forget that I know way more about you than might be considered normal for a 'casual fan'."  
"I didn't realise there was a rating system," he remarked.   
"Well, not an official one." she laughed as they got to the restaurant, Tom opening the door for her. "But yeah, of course there's different levels of fans. I'm above casual, but below stalker."  
He threw her a guarded look as he followed her in. "You do know the word 'fan' is derived from 'fanatic', right? As in 'possessing an obsessive or religious zeal'?''  
"Yes, I know... but it no longer entirely carries that connotation." she pointed out. "Nowadays it refers simply to anyone who likes a given work. Whether it's just a casual interest or, indeed, a fanatical one.”  
"Well, as you say, there are levels," he countered. "I'm a bit new to the game, but fame is double-edged sword when it comes to having a large fan base. And 'stalker' is not a term used lightly. It's a very real thing."  
"I am aware of that." she nodded apologetically. "But I think we can safely say that a stalker is someone taking fandom too far on the spectrum." They were quickly seated, the restaurant fairly light on patrons for the moment since the orchestra was in the middle of their performance.  
Tom shook his head ruefully as they sat. "I still find it all a little bewildering, frankly."  
She sat down across from him “As well you should, I suppose. I think any normal person would find it a bit bewildering. But, in all honesty, you *deserve* recognition of your talents." she smiled, reaching across the table to take his hand. "You are an amazingly gifted actor and an equally good person."  
He blushed and cleared his throat. "Bless you for the compliment. That's what I mean, though; it's enormously gratifying for me as an actor to hear compliments on my work, but when it gets personal....it's just a bit, I dunno, odd, I suppose. It's not like most people saying things like that actually know me, and it does come off as sounding fanatical at times. I've had fans attribute all these life-changing events to me, and honestly, that's a heavy burden to place on anyone. Never mind that it's simply misguided to attribute things like that to me: it's their efforts that have brought them that; I had nothing to do with it."  
"It's not your responsibility. But you can't deny that you have the ability to inspire people. Whether it's inspiring them to draw fan art or write fan fic... or to get help for depression or stop cutting themselves... it doesn't matter how or why... it only matters that you do."  
"No, you see, there we disagree...I'm not the inspiration, not me, personally; the work, perhaps, is an inspiration, or what people, what fans, perceive of me through the media. It's all a perception, not a reality."   
"I meant outside of your work. You can't tell me that you've never been inspired by someone; Kenneth Branagh, Anthony Hopkins, Lawrence Olivier, William Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, whomever. Now some of them, you have met. You know them personally. But those you have not met personally... are they any less effective in terms of inspiration? And, yes, your work influences people, as it should. But there are things outside of acting that you've done as well. Your work with UNICEF for instance. If I did not enjoy your work and follow you on Twitter, I probably wouldn't have even known about the children in Syria. It is *only* because of you that I donated and made sure that my donation would be matched by others. I signal-boosted it because of you." she insisted. "So you are, in fact, responsible for the improvement in lives. And not just those you help through UNICEF. There are people who get inspired to help themselves through things you've said. Not as your characters, but as yourself. Like... during the Nerd HQ interview, you had that whole thing about choosing to be an optimist and you tossed out that quote about having two lives and the second one starts when you realize you only have one." she reminded him. "Those are very powerful words coming from you. And because of your work, because of your talent, because of your charm... your words carry more weight to those who admire you. On stage and off."  
Tom blushed crimson red up to his ears at this praise. "I don't think anyone's ever said anything like that to me before," he commented quietly. "That's truly...astonishing. I've never thought about it that way," He fiddled with the menu, pensive. "I'm still just an actor just doing my job, and if fame allows for me to publicise the causes that I feel deserves it, then I'll use it. But I'm not that different from anyone else; I'm not really a role model."   
"That's just it! You being no different from anyone else is inspiring in and of itself! Look what you've accomplished. If you can do it, so can others. You see?" she said, smiling at his blush, reaching across the able to touch his cheek. "You're a role model in part because you do not think you are one."  
"Ah, a paradox!" Tom exclaimed softly. "I understand your point, but almost every fan who claims that I somehow changed their lives in truth has done that on their own; they've merely chosen something they've heard about me, or saw in my work, as inspiration, that's all."   
"No one *choses* to be inspired; they are or they aren't." she shrugged, pressing a kiss to her fingertips and then pressing them to his lips briefly. "But perhaps we should table this debate for another time and actually consider the food?"  
Tom smiled, kissing her fingertips quickly, and then drawing back with a nod. "Yes, we probably should," he concurred, taking up the menu in earnest and looking over the contents.   
She did the same, looking over the food choices. The place was fairly gourmet, certainly more than she was used to. "I think I’ll get the romaine salad to start and the veal porterhouse... what are you thinking?" she asked him.  
“I'll go for the prime rib eye and whipped potatoes for entree," Tom decided, "and...hm, the mesclun greens, something simple for salad."   
"Sounds good." she nodded. "And what shall we get to drink? Do you want to get wine or something?”  
"A glass or two of Merlot would go well with our meal, I think...You prefer a less dry red, if I recall correctly?" They agreed on the Merlot, and placed their orders.   
She sat back in her chair, sipping a glass of water while they waited for their food and drinks. "So... you're going to Asia for Thor 2 promos, right? I'm really looking forward to seeing it. I was a bit late to the whole Marvel party, but I'm totally on board now. The theatre down here is doing and all-day thing where they'll show Thor, then Avengers, and then Dark World. I've already got tickets." she said. "Geeky, I know... but I like movie marathons. I did the same thing with Lord of the Rings."  
"Now that sounds like fun," Tom remarked. "It is an experience, getting to see the completed film for the first time, too. Must be quite an event, watching them back-to-back like that."   
"Fun, but exhausting!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Each of those films is over three hours long if you're watching the extended editions, which we were. And now we have the Hobbit movies to contend with too!  
"Well, yes, I imagine they'll have to spread it out over a week at this point!" he laughed.   
"One of the cable channels here does that with the Harry Potter movies... they'll show two or three of them a night and then at like, nine am Friday morning they go through all of them over the weekend." she nodded.  
"Wow!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "I'm not likely to have the time to do something like that anytime soon. The closest I might get is watching things on a tablet during the flight."   
"A couple of really long flights should do you." she nodded. "Just don't mix them up and watch Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings at the same time. That makes for really weird dreams. I know this from experience. There is nothing more disconcerting than hobbits at Hogwarts." she nodded sagely, as though imparting great wisdom to him.  
Tom sputtered, trying to contain a second bout of laughter. Her deadpan expression was perfect, and despite the more formal surroundings, he couldn't completely stifle his giggle. "There's an image," he muttered.   
She broke her expression into a Cheshire Cat-like grin, laughing softly. "Any idea what sort of things you'll be doing to promo Thor 2? Strictly confidential, of course. I will keep my yap shut about it."  
"It's a whole list of interviews and public appearances, usually. I won't have the full itinerary until I get to LA. I just show up and go in the direction they show me."   
"And Luke will be there with you, right? And you have an interpreter? Not that I doubt your intelligence, but I'm maybe 70% sure you do not speak Chinese." she asked, the question more out of concern for his stress level then trying to suss info out of him.  
"There's a whole team to shuttle me around, yes, and Luke will be there. My Mandarin is rubbish, try as I might, so yes, I'll have an interpreter."  
"Good. Above anything else, I want you to be safe." she smiled, sitting up as the sommelier came over with their chosen bottle of wine, offering Tom a taste first to be sure it was what they wanted.  
The wine was a very pleasant Merlot, and well matched to their meal. The food arrived shortly afterwards and they spent a few minutes in companionable silence while they tried their first bites of food. "Wow... I don't eat veal very often and this is, like, steak to the nth power. Want to try a bite?" she asked, cutting off a piece of the meat and offering it to him.  
He nodded, offering her a tidbit of his own rib eye. It was tender and cooked to perfection, and they both savored each other’s' taste, Tom making a soft hum of appreciation as he chewed. The music of the Chicago Symphony played over their repast, adding another layer to the ambiance. "Excellent choice," Tom complimented her. "For both the meal and the restaurant."  
She smiled. "I pass this place every day on my way to work and I never had a reason to come in." she shrugged. "Thank you for giving me a reason."  
"My pleasure," he replied, raising his wine glass to her.   
She raised hers in turn and took a sip, finding it did mesh well with her food. "What's on deck for after the Thor 2 promos?" she asked. "Aren't you supposed to be in some Del Toro film?"  
"There's this little play at the Donmar I thought I'd dabble in, to pass the time," he remarked with eyes a-twinkle, "but yes, I do have a film lined up to do next summer with Del Toro, and there's another one right after that. There's some events I need to show up to, also: promo things, mostly."  
"Ah, right... I meant after Coriolanus. I can barely remember my schedule, let alone yours!" she laughed at her forgetfulness.  
"That's what I have Luke for," he remarked. "Truth is, it's a whole team of people, especially for the kind of publicity tour I've got lined up for me this time."  
She nodded. "Luke, your agent, photographer, interpreter, probably a Marvel exec or two, personal assistants..." she laughed. "You have a small army, Loki... also called an entourage."  
"There's two teams," Tom clarified. "For a trip like this, Luke has my entourage, as you say, and we meet up with a local group when we get to our destination. We all meet each other and go over the itinerary, little details: rules, any back ground information, timing and such, all that. It is a bit military at times."  
"Neccessarily military." she nodded. "It's complicated. To make it all go off without a hitch, there has to be some military-esque strategy involved."  
"Yes, it can be that precise, but less formal, of course. There's far more people smiling, usually."   
She laughed softly. "Well, that's good to know! You're far too smiley to put up with sterness for long." she said, continuing to eat. "So, where's the Del Toro film going to be shot? Dare I hope it will be anywhere near here?"  
Tom grinned triumphantly. "Relatively near: Toronto."  
"Not bad... Toronto's not all that far away." she nodded. "Bit much for a day trip... but maybe I can take a long weekend and take the bus up there or something. I'll have to look into what motel prices are like." she said, assuming if she wanted to see him again, it would have to be of her own power and funds. She didn't want to assume that he would devote his precious time off-set to her, which it would be anything more than what other fans might receive.  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll be able to work something out," Tom took out his mobile. ""I need your number, though."  
"Oh, right... um... do you want to program it right into your phone?" she asked, taking out her own. "And maybe... I could... have yours?"  
Tom gave a broad smile. "You already do," he said quietly.  
"Huh?" she frowned at him. "No, I don't. I never asked you for it before... now...?" she scrolled through her contacts, blinking in confusion when she found the entry with his name and number. "How...? Did you hack my phone or something when I was in the shower?" she laughed.  
He shrugged. "It was on the desk, and I took the opportunity to add it," he confessed.   
"You're so sneaky." she shook her head at him indulgently. "I must have forgotten to lock it.”  
"It wasn't locked," he confirmed, "and if i was being sneaky, I would have called my own number from your phone to get yours."   
"True, true." she smiled. "And on that note, let me just text you directly so you'll have my number." she said, quickly texting him a simple "hi".  
"Heh!" He tapped back a quick 'Hello!' in response.  
"And, all joking aside, you can text me or call me whenever. If I don't pick up or text you right back, I'm probably at work. But I'll respond as soon as I can." she assured him. "Is it okay if I text or call you at some point?"  
"Yes, but the same applies to mine. And please keep in mind there's a likely chance that I'm working and/or in a different time zone."  
"I'll try to keep track of what time zone you're in, but I make no promises that I won't accidentally text you at 3 in the morning." she smiled. "Feel free to ignore those until a less godforsaken hour."  
He smiled, pocketing his mobile once more. "I most certainly will keep that in mind."  
She put her phone away as well. "I really do hope I get to see you again. This weekend has been fantastic and... Even if I am just another fan at some event in the future... I want to see you again."  
"I'm sure we will see each other again," Tom said. "Maybe not for a while, but I'm certain it will happen. Until then, keep that number close, eh?" He nodded. "Interested in afters? That meal was superb, and we've a little more time."  
"I am always interested in afters." she smiled, glancing at the dessert menu perched nearby. "Maybe the Pot du Chocolat Creme?" she suggested.  
"Excellent choice," he exclaimed. They ordered the dessert and savored every silky spoonful of it, the chocolate rich and satiny, the macerated apricots a tart counterpoint and honey-sweetened whipped cream adding its own gentle notes. The orchestra played on as they ate, each of them enjoying not only their own dessert, but the sight of the other enjoying their own. Sharing a meal like this created its own kind of intimacy, contained in a little bubble of space all of their own. That taste of apricots, honey and chocolate lingered on his tongue as Tom locked the moment away in memory.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom leaves Chicago with a myriad of emotions.

She was a bit sorry when their meal came to an end and the waiter brought the check over. Every minute ticking away was another minute less of his company. And though she was fighting to be realistic, a knot had formed in her stomach. She knew herself well enough that between her previous infatuation with him and this sweet intimacy of this week... she was very much falling in love with this man. But she knew it was incredibly foolish to think he could ever fall in love with her.  
They didn't say much as they left the restaurant to make their way back out toward the hotel, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. It was getting late, with evening coming on fast to dusk, shadows growing from the tall buildings. Tom was well-oriented by this time, and felt a tad foolish at how he gotten so turned around when he first arrived, and even more chagrined at his uncharacteristic burst of temper over his mobile. For all that, he certainly didn't regret it happening: he might never have met Jennifer otherwise. No, he doubted he would ever regret that. His hand instinctively sought out hers, grasping it as they walked, pensive.  
She twined her fingers with his, squeezing gently and looking up at him with a soft smile. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, finding his silence comfortable, but somewhat inviting of query. "Just thinking about everything that needs doing before you leave?"  
"Just considering the nature of serendipity," he answered. "There isn't much left for me to do, honestly: packing is a quick process, and the car service will come round to collect me and off I go again." He glanced over to her, still walking hand in hand by his side. "It truly has been a wonderful getaway, Jennifer; thank you."   
"For me as well." she blushed. "I can't even begin to tell you how amazing this weekend has been." she said as they reached the hotel and headed back up to their rooms. "I never thought in a million years that I would ever have such an incredible weekend."  
"Truth," Tom remarked, “is stranger than fiction. Neither did I think all this possible. You've certainly given me a lot to remember...and to think about." They reached their rooms, and he ushered her in after swiping the key card.   
She headed inside and sat on the bed, leaning back. "So... how much time before the car service comes to get you?" she asked. She wasn't propositioning for more sex, although she wouldn't be against it if he wanted more. She just wanted to know how much precious time she had left with him.  
Tom checked his watch. "About three hours or so, I should think." He began to move around the room, gathering up his things.   
"Going back to work tomorrow is going to seem so terribly boring." she sighed, though it was fondly. "My co-workers will ask me how my weekend was and I won't be able to tell them anything other than 'okay'."  
"Do you think they'd believe the truth?" he asked, pausing for a moment.  
"Not for a hot second." she shook her head. "They know full well that I have a crush on you. Loki s my desktop wallpaper at work, after all. My boss even gave me a little Lego Loki keychain last Christmas."  
Tom shook his head, laughing, and then groaned. "Oh, dear lord, as if I could ever explain this to Luke or anyone else!" he burst out. "It's just too unreal, isn't it? But it did happen, and maybe it's better that it's so unbelievable, because that way it can stay ours, just between us." He sighed. "It would be nice to have that, something just between two people, without the whole world scrutinizing it to pieces.”  
She smiled, nodding, although there was that niggling fear that he might want to keep it secret simply because she was not exactly Hollywood A-List material. Short, plump and bespectacled, she was the furthest thing from sultry-eyed starlet.  
Forehead creasing with a concerned frown, Tom asked, "What's that look?"   
"Nothing. Just my own stuff rattling in my head." she shook her head. "I know exactly why you want to keep this a secret: to avoid backlash and paparazzi and rumor. But part me also worries that maybe it's also because you just don't want anyone to know about the sort of woman I am. I am not a beautiful, tall, thin model."  
Tom's eyes went wide. "Oh, dear lord, you think that I think that?" He flopped into a nearby chair. "Jennifer...Honestly, I don't know what to say to that, other than so damn what? Do you really think I'm, what? Embarrassed by how you look? Which, you should know, is gorgeous, and I happen to appreciate a woman's curves..." Tom sputtered, looking slightly offended. "Please tell me you don't think that."   
"It's not a judgment on you. It's just my own insecurities and I know that. My head knows that's not why at all. The heart is less easily convinced after years of constantly being 'not good enough'." she sighed. "And, let's be real here, if god forbid the paps were to find out about us, they would not be kind to me."  
"They aren't kind to most people," Tom muttered. "I am quite aware of how vicious the press can get about relationships. I would never want to have anyone go through that, especially with me. I've had enough of that nonsense already, and that, more than anything else, is why I want this to remain private."  
" ‘Enough of that nonsense already’? I don't remember any unfavorable press about you." she shook her head.  
Tom said nothing for a long moment before he cleared his throat. "And I thought you said you were a fan of mine," he joked with a self-depreciating smile.   
"I am." she rolled her eyes indulgently. "But I also don't frequent sites like TMZ or whatever gossip rags there are in the UK."  
"It was a matter of public knowledge a couple of years ago," Tom started slowly, "and only compounded by comments from many people who had no connection to me at all." He wasn't entirely comfortable about bringing the subject up even now, but honestly it seemed unavoidable. Especially since he had in a way brought her into his life even temporarily, he wanted to clarify just how false and distorted much of the press can be, and how important it was to set firm limits in place because of it, if only to protect one's ever-dwindling privacy. "Do you know of Susannah Fielding?"   
"I don't. But I'm going to guess she's an ex-girlfriend of yours." she shook her head. In a gesture meant to comfort him, she took his hands in hers and sat in the bed, drawing him with her.  
"I went to university with Susannah, and yes, we dated fairly steadily during that entire time; we even acted together, briefly, on 'Wallander'." Tom paused. He hadn't recounted much of this in the press, having been very vague and able to side-step that line of inquiry most of the time. He was certain Luke had a hand in that, stating before interviews that there were topics that Tom would simply not discuss and that they should stick to whatever project he was touting, "We were pretty much a couple by the time our careers started to really move forward: I had gotten the contract to play Loki, and she was going to be doing theater in West End, and we both sort of...well, drifted apart isn't the right phrase, really, we just realised that we were both focusing on our work more than our relationship and just decided to split. We had some words over it, but we parted well enough."  
She nodded, keeping her eyes on his face. By the pain lurking under the shine of his eyes, she could tell that this apparently amicable break-up was not the end of the story. She squeezed his hands gently, thumbs stroking tenderly over the backs. "What happened, Tom?" she asked in a soft voice.  
"I didn't dismiss the entire relationship at first, I suppose," he speculated. "She was quite clear about it, but I still held on to us being boyfriend and girlfriend, or at least referring to each other that way between ourselves. In my mind I saw it as something temporary, just taking a break." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "So I threw myself into prepping for Loki; there was a lot of physical stuff involved, and was going to take a lot of intensive training, so off I went to the States for that. Eventually we all met up in New Mexico." He fidgeted, but went on. "That's where I met Kat Dennings."   
"I did know that you and she were a thing for a little while. Not that I blame you for that. Hell *I'd* have sex with Kat Dennings if the opportunity presented itself." she said lightly, trying to ease his stress by being a little bit funny.  
Tom's expression was anything but amused. "Don't be too sure of that," he commented. "It might be common knowledge now, but when it happened, it was all very quiet. A set romance, if you will. Kat wasn't interested in anything long-term or serious, and it was a bit novel for me, I admit, after having been in a long-term relationship for basically my entire adult life up until then. So we had our fun and parted as friends."   
"Right... I remember seeing the two of your at premiere's the things. You seemed pretty comfortable with each other... even flirting a little." she nodded. "So you guys had a little mutual fling..."  
Tom let out a long breath. "Yes, we did, but again, it was a set thing, not a secret, exactly--everyone there knew about it--but it wasn't discussed, even among ourselves. We were aware that we'd be on tour together, and doing press conferences and such, so of course we'd see each other, but that would be in public and not at all the same interaction. We were both single, so what was wrong with it?" He shrugged. "Turned out, quite a lot was wrong with it, apparently."   
"Tom?" she said his name when he paused and looked away guiltily. "Tom, what happened? Did Susannah get mad at you? Even you both had parted ways?"  
"Susannah and Kat are very different women," he replied. "After Kat and I parted ways, I did a bit of soul-searching, so to speak. We shot 'Thor' in the beginning of 2010, and it was non-stop working for me for the next couple of years. That year and the next was chock full of project after project, and I didn't have much time for any kind of romance, really, during all of it. Despite all that, I was able to keep holidays free--I always spend them with family--and found myself thinking a lot about Susannah around then, in 2011. And I did something very brash." Again, he paused with a sigh. "Susannah was in Paris, and I was supposed to be going to an audition in London. Instead I went to France to surprise her. Not my smartest move."   
Keeping one hand clasped in his, she slid her other hand up his arm to his shoulder, caressing in a soothing manner. This was very difficult for him, she could tell. In all of his interviews, however open he was, he had never really spoken about his relationships that she could recall. Speaking of it right now, he was so uncomfortable and nervous and... sad. He was still emotionally upset by the mere memory of it.  
"We met in a park," he recalled. "It was cold, and overcast. She wasn't happy to see me; she took me to task for missing the audition, or something. I just brushed that off and we sat down on a park bench to talk about what the past months had been like for me, and that I had come to some important conclusions, and..." Tom hesitated, then plowed on with the narrative. "And I proposed to her. It was a selfish thing to do, in retrospect, but I wanted to do it and so I just did."   
She licked her lips, heart giving an involuntary jerk. "And since you are here and clearly not married... I assume she said no." she said softly, hand now sliding from his shoulder to cup his cheek. "Oh Tom..."  
"She turned me down flat," he stated. "In fact, told me frankly that she was seeing someone else. Apparently she heard about Kat, too, so it all went balls up. We had quite a row, in which she told me that I wasn't the marrying type and that no one woman could be enough for me. It cut me to the quick, that comment, and I don't even remember our parting after that. I was at a bit of loss at what to do, so I headed back home and said nothing to anyone about it. I rang up Kat a little time after that--we were going to be at a premiere together, and I needed to talk to her about all this--but, as I said, it wasn't meant to be a deep, lasting relationship with Kat."  
"Two rejections right on the each other's heels. Oh, sweetheart..." she frowned, eyes starting to well up with tears just imagining how painful that must have been for him. She reached for him, pulling him down into a hug, stroking his hair back. "Oh, Tom... I'm so sorry you were hurt."  
“So am I," he murmured. "You realise that I haven't told anyone about this, certainly not the media, and I'd rather not bring it to light even now."   
"I'll not tell a soul." she promised him softly, fingers dancing gently along the nape of his neck as she pressed a kiss to his temple. "And, although I am honored that you trust me enough to tell me... why have you told me?"  
"Because I haven't been in a relationship since then, and despite what you might have seen in the press, I've only had a couple of casual dates since. And if you think that I'm ashamed of your body, that I'd hide you away like some dirty little secret, you couldn't be more wrong. You're lovely. I'm not embarrassed by you; I'm protective of you and our time together."  
She blushed. "I guess the press wasn't terribly kind to Susannah after you two split?" she asked. She could only imagine what the press would say if they caught wind that she and Tom had spent the weekend sleeping together.  
"It was more comments made in reaction to the news that were incredibly unkind," corrected Tom. "I had been warned about the less savory side of having an extensive fan base, but it got vicious. The weird stuff was difficult enough, but this kind of attack...It was really no-one's business but ours, so I got rather insistent about my privacy after that. I don't have a Tumblr account anymore, in part because of that."  
"I didn't even know you *had* a Tumblr account in the first place. I have a Tumblr account... a fairly active one, at that." she admitted, hoping it wouldn't put him off. "All of the fans I've interacted with have been very sweet and supportive. But yeah, there will always be some nasties."  
"Most people do have some form of social media accounts; a few of the Avengers cast have Tumblr accounts, but for me I found it wasn't giving me a clear picture of this new celebrity, plus I just didn't have the time to invest in it. I even cut back on my Twitter activity."   
She nodded, remembering how his Twitter posts had tapered off until they were lucky to see a few of them a month. "Well, if you ever do try again... hit me up for some good, sane fans to follow." she said softly. "But yes, I can see what you mean. You want to keep me from being a target."  
"Yes," he confirmed, relieved that she understood. "Who I see, who I have a relationship with, that is one of the only things I have left that isn't for public consumption. I can't live every moment of my life in the limelight, and it's all too easy for fame to intrude on life away from work."  
She nodded. "Okay... so we'll keep it on the down-low." she agreed, leaning in to press a kiss to his brow. "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. No doubt, Luke will send me some sort of NDA as soon as you tell him."  
Tom groaned. "I've been trying not to think about how Luke will take the news, to be honest. And I don't think we need to go far as to involve legal documents: we've been blessedly discrete and left alone this weekend."   
"Yes, but he will want some sort of legal collateral to keep me from blabbing in the future. And I'm fine with giving it if it will keep him from stressing out about it." she offered. "Really. It's okay."  
Tom just shook his head and leaned over to kiss her.  
She smiled, meeting the kiss gently, fingers sliding through his hair. "Better finish packing, handsome. Don't want to miss your flight because we got distracted by making out like teenagers." she reminded him playfully.  
He gave her another quick peck of a kiss, nodding and getting up. "True, quite true," he agreed with some regret. Packing really didn't take long; he was a pro at that by now. It wasn't long before his bag was packed and waiting by the door. The sun had set and the room had grown darker.   
"Should I just move my stuff in here and let them open up the other room if needed?" she asked, standing and rubbing her hands on her legs a bit self-consciously.  
"That's up to you," Tom replied. "The suite is yours until tomorrow morning." He stood in the middle of the room, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking around absently.   
"Want me to walk you down?" she asked, glancing at the clock and realizing the car service would be there to pick him up any moment.  
"If you'd like to. We can wait here, until the service arrives." He felt a sudden shyness, the impending departure making the wait awkward. "They'll call up. Everything's been taken care of, with the room, so no need for you to do anything before you check out tomorrow--oh, they'll deliver your laundry early in the morning. Do you want anything else, something from room service, maybe?"  
"No, I'm good. I don't usually eat breakfast during the week anyway." she shook her head. She stepped closer to him, taking a gentle hold of his wrists and drawing his hands out of his pockets, holding them. She stood on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. "Text me to let me know you got to LA okay, all right?"  
"I will." He kissed the top of her head. He rocked back and forth a little in a slow dance. It wasn't anything formal or lively; there was no music; just a quiet, intimate swaying as they waited. "I'll be thinking of you," he whispered. The phone rang, signaling the car had arrived.   
"Me too." she smiled, letting him answer the phone and assure them that he would be right down. She picked up the room key so she wouldn't forget it, then took his hand as they left the room, heading for the elevator. Her stomach felt twisted and she was acutely aware of the cadence of her own breathing... and the threatening sting behind her eyes. She was going to cry... she just hoped she could hold out until he was in the car and down the street.  
They rode down the elevator wordlessly, Tom had his bag slung over his shoulder, and he set it down, turning to her. "Before I go, I wanted to thank you again, for everything. I had a marvelous time."   
"So did I." she smiled, tears standing in her eyes as she stood on her toes to hug him tightly. "Thank you to you as well." she whispered in his hear before kissing his temple and drawing back as the elevator doors open.  
Tom shouldered his bag and took her hand as they exited the elevator and crossed the lobby. The car was there, and Tom stowed his bag on the seat before turning back to embrace her one more time. He kissed her gently, brushing her hair as he let go. "We'll talk soon," he promised, climbing into the car. He waved, a wistful smile peering from the window, as they pulled away into the downtown traffic.   
She managed to get all the way back to the elevator before starting cry. Once she was alone in the room, she buried her face in the pillows the muffle her sobs, crying as if the love of her life had just left her. Which was ridiculous of course... they'd only met two days ago.  
Two amazing days ago!  
She tried to think rationally, despite the tears streaming over her face and clogging her throat. Yes, she'd already been infatuated with him... so maybe spending the weekend with him and being so intimate had resulted in a very strong attachment very quickly.  
Oh fuck, who was she kidding? She was in love with him.  
The lights of the city glittered above them as the car wove through the traffic, and for a little while, after he couldn't see Jennifer anymore and he had settled back in his seat, Tom just watched them twinkle like stars as they drove away from the Palmer. He leaned over and unzipped a pocket on his travel bag, drawing out his tablet. He flipped open the case, clicking it on. Tapping for a few moments before closing it up again, he sat back, imagining Jen's expression when she received the flowers tomorrow. A nice gesture he felt, even if he wouldn't get to see it. He sighed. It would have to do, since he hadn't said what he had the impulse to say to her. Too soon, he told himself. He couldn't be sure...yet. But he knew for certain that this wasn't the end of his involvement with Jennifer, and that he'd be returning to Chicago soon. Very soon...


End file.
